


A River Loves A Stone

by likethenight



Series: It's Always Been You [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Eventual Romance, Fluff, Found Family, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Protective Siblings, Rare Pairings, Rarepair, Romance, Sibling Incest, Siblings, Slow Burn, Twincest, Unrequited Love, Yearning, one true love to rule them all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 66,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25034833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethenight/pseuds/likethenight
Summary: Rúmil is in love with Orophin, his oldest brother. At first he thinks there is no hope, but then he meets the sons of Elrond, who have already discovered that this kind of love is not always hopeless.Featuring - eventually - all three of Elrond's children, a cameo appearance by the Balrog-slayer, another by Galadriel, and most importantly, a happy ending.
Relationships: Elladan/Elrohir (Tolkien), Orophin/Rúmil of Lothlórien
Series: It's Always Been You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838758
Comments: 41
Kudos: 24





	1. Something Has To Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainflash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainflash/gifts).



> Like many people, most likely, I watched the LotR remote cast reunion video the other week and found myself catapulted back to those heady days of the early 2000s when I was up to my neck in Tolkien fandom. It really did feel like seeing old, dear friends again after a long separation, and more than that, it felt like coming home. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed this, the second fandom I was part of, and the first one I really participated in. I’ve been rewatching the films, and have been digging around in my fic folders, surprising myself at the number of WIPs that were lurking there, mostly snippets of things that at the time I just did not have the sticking power to finish.
> 
> This story was inspired by one of those snippets, a side-story to a much bigger ‘verse that I was working on at the time with the incomparable rainflash. We only managed to write a handful of scenes and a few notes, but looking them over the other week, I had the ‘I want to read that story…dammit, that means I have to _write_ that story’ feeling, and so I found myself inspired to write for the first time in longer than I can remember. I’ve had some experience with long-form writing by now, and I thought I could perhaps start with what we had and give the story the 20k or so I thought it needed to do it justice. And then…well. It turned into a bit of a monster. I have never had a two weeks like it for writing, and I have enjoyed myself so much. The story is finished and ready for posting, and I will try and upload a new chapter every couple of days. I hope you enjoy reading it even a fragment of the amount I have enjoyed writing it.
> 
> The title comes from a song by Empathy Test, whose music has rather soundtracked the writing of this story. If you are looking for angsty yearning-and-pining synth-pop, I highly recommend them.
> 
> A note on headcanons: I know opinion differs as to the order of the three Galadhrim brothers, but I have always headcanoned them as Orophin being the eldest, Haldir the middle, and Rúmil the youngest. They have a fairly small age gap between them in this story and they are all fairly young, for Elves: they are aged between 500 or so (Rúmil) and about 550 (Orophin).
> 
> Dedicated to rainflash, with love.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil’s frustration at his older brothers’ overprotectiveness of him boils over, and he realises that something has to change.

Orcs crowded from all sides towards the small band of Galadhrim, threatening to overwhelm the guardians of this stretch of the border of the Golden Wood. The Silvan Elves were spread more thinly than their leader would like but all were fighting with the skill and deadly grace inborn in their people. The Orcs' screams of pain formed a clashing counterpoint to the bell-like war cries of the Elves as weapons clashed, the Orcs’ twisted metal against the Elves’ finely-forged steel. Arrows whistled from high up in the trees, the patrol’s archers perched out of sight of the Orcs’ bows and picking off as many as they could.

Rúmil twisted and turned, every movement bringing a slash or stab or parry of his sword, screams of pain from his adversaries. He finished off one Orc after another, dodging their clumsy blows, moving with a fluid grace that constantly caught the Orcs off-balance. One after another they fell to his determined blade. He was tiring a little, but he paid it no mind. He had long ago learned to ignore the tug of weariness, for he knew that in such a situation to become distracted is to be as good as dead. The clarity of mind that only came to him when he was fighting was something that he had learned to love. It gave him focus in confusion, lent him peace from the constant voice of his heart. He moved in a void, his sword and his enemies the only things that truly existed to him.

At last Sauron's creatures began to retreat, driven back by the Elves of Lothlórien, and there were no more within Rúmil’s immediate reach. He moved to help the nearest of his companions, but stopped short when he saw who it was, and how conveniently close to him, too, closer than he had realised. _Haldir..._ His older brother was more than capable of taking care of himself, and indeed was already despatching the last few of his attackers. Rúmil turned his back on his brother, frustration welling up inside him, and went to help another of his comrades instead, cutting his way through the last few Orcs that were surrounding her. At least over here his brother could not breathe down his neck. 

Rúmil bit down upon his frustration, channelling it back into his fighting. He was well over five hundred years old, and had been a more than capable member of Lothlórien’s border patrols since shortly after he came of age, but his two older brothers still seemed to think he needed looking after. He was a more than capable fighter, but he had never managed to get himself assigned to a patrol that did not include either Haldir or Orophin, and every time they encountered trouble, he would invariably find whichever brother was present fighting too close to him for it to be a mere accident. Sometimes they were both there, and Rúmil had even less chance of escaping them. 

It was Orophin’s closeness that frustrated him the most. Something about his oldest brother’s protective attitude towards him made Rúmil feel as though he was being smothered. And the other feelings that Orophin’s presence evoked in him…well, they were best ignored. Far better to bury them so deeply that they could never be found.

Momentarily distracted by his thoughts, despite all his training and discipline, Rúmil came far closer than he would like to being taken by surprise by one of the last fighting Orcs. Regaining himself at the last second he brought up his sword and ran the creature through, letting out a howl of frustration as he turned to see his companion finishing off the last of the enemies. She nodded at him, the shadow of a question in her eyes, but Rúmil simply shrugged and turned away, glancing around to ensure that all the Orcs were either dead or gone and they were not going to be surprised by any more of the foul creatures. 

Haldir called the patrol to order and the band of Galadhrim lined up before their Captain, the archers dropping silently out of the trees to join their comrades. Most were unhurt, although a few were nursing grazes and one or two had more serious cuts that would require attention immediately before the arrival of the relief patrol who were surely already making their way from Caras Galadhon in response to the message sent when the band of Orcs had first been sighted. Once they had arrived they could take over the protection of this part of the Golden Wood, while those who had just seen battle headed back to the city to recuperate.

Rúmil made sure he was towards the back of the column on the homeward march; Haldir, by dint of his position as Marchwarden, had to be at the front, and Rúmil was in no mood to be near his brother at this moment. With any luck he would be able to slip away to the bath house while Haldir gave his report, and then make his way home in peace. 

Of course, slipping away only delayed the inevitable. Rúmil had barely poured himself a cup of wine and settled into one of the armchairs in the main room of the talan he shared with his two brothers when Haldir appeared, looking remarkably composed for one who had just endured a battle, a long march and a full debrief with his superior officers. Despite himself, Rúmil could not help rolling his eyes and letting out an exasperated sigh, causing Haldir to raise one perfect eyebrow. 

“What is the matter, gwanûr-nín?” he inquired, and Rúmil only sighed again. It was the same every time, he could not help showing his frustration and it inevitably turned into an argument. Always the same, for hundreds of years, so much so that Rúmil already knew exactly what he and Haldir would say, and yet still Haldir and Orophin did not seem to have learned their lesson. 

“Only the usual, _gwanûr-nín_ ,” he said. “That you still don’t seem to feel able to leave me alone in battle. That none of your other soldiers receive the same treatment. That I don’t need it and haven’t needed it for centuries, if ever.” He drew a breath, let it out in a sigh, and then drew another. “And that still you do it, regardless of how many times we have this utterly pointless conversation.”

“I merely wish to ensure the safety of every member of my patrol,” said Haldir smoothly, as he said every single time. “You only notice when I am close to you, but perhaps if you were not so far away in your battle trance, you might realise that I move about the battlefield, wherever I am needed. I keep an eye on everyone, not just you. Besides, if I were truly so unsure about your capabilities in close combat, I would station you in the trees with the archers.”

“But I _don’t_ need you, Haldir. I am just as capable a soldier as you are, and you know it. Save your attention for those who truly need someone looking over their shoulder, although if any of them still need that, then perhaps they should not yet be patrolling. And as for the archers…” Rúmil could not quite find a way to finish his sentence; instead he stood up and went over to the window, staring out at nothing in particular, biting his lip to keep from screaming with frustration.

Haldir was just opening his mouth to reply when Orophin swung himself almost soundlessly up into the talan from the ladder below, but Rúmil heard him, and his shoulders instinctively stiffened. Now for the customary second round, the one where every time Rúmil had to keep a particular watch upon his tongue in case he accidentally said something he should not.

“Orophin,” said Haldir, “perhaps you can help me explain to our brother that I am not singling him out for special treatment when we are on patrol.” Although Haldir was commanding officer to both of his brothers, in matters of family, which it was becoming clear this was, he tended to defer to Orophin, as the eldest and usually the most diplomatic, to sort things out. Besides, Orophin had always been closer to Rúmil than Haldir had. 

“Please, do not bother,” said Rúmil, not bothering to turn around. “You can spare me the empty denials, Orophin, because you’re worse than he is. I can barely turn around without finding you beside me. You fuss around me like a mother hen with her chicks, and I tired of it centuries ago. I do not need you - either of you!”

“Rúmil, we just want to be sure that you are safe,” Orophin said, his soft voice taut with hurt. “I’m sorry if you feel we fuss, perhaps it is a habit we find hard to break.”

“Of course it’s a habit,” Rúmil snapped, “you’ve been doing it since we were Elflings, don’t forget you weren’t of age until I was almost ten years old. You’re not so much older than me, o my oldest brother, and it’s well past time you broke your habits where I am concerned.” Finally he turned away from the window, casting sharp glances at both his brothers as he crossed the room and dropped down onto the ladder, feeling as though he could bear being near them not a second longer. Reaching the stairway that wound around the huge trunk of the mallorn tree he and his brothers called home, he descended quickly, determined not to run. Running felt too much like running _away_ , and though in the strictest sense that was what he was doing, Rúmil was not quite prepared to admit it to himself. 

Something had to change, he told himself as he walked briskly between the trees, making for his favourite spot for thinking. It was a tiny clearing tucked away on the edge of the city, hidden by undergrowth and the smaller trees that grew in the shadow of the great mellyrn of the Golden Wood. Rúmil had discovered it when he was but an Elfling, and as far as he was aware, nobody else knew about it. It was completely private, not overlooked at all, and just about big enough for one person, perhaps two, although Rúmil had never brought anyone else here. There was a smooth boulder to sit on, and nothing else to distract the mind. Rúmil slipped between the bushes and settled himself upon the boulder, and began to think things over in earnest. Something had to change, and it was plain that the change he needed would not be coming from either of his brothers. In which case, Rúmil would need to do something himself, otherwise he would be carrying out stifling border patrols with either Haldir or Orophin - or, Valar forfend, both of them - breathing down his neck until the end of eternity.

He needed to get away from Caras Galadhon, that much was plain. But what could he do? The Lady Celebrían, daughter of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, divided her time between the Golden Wood and her husband’s home in Imladris, so perhaps Rúmil could volunteer to join her guard the next time she decided to travel. But when that would be, none knew but the Lady herself, and Rúmil needed a solution sooner than ‘who knows when’. Perhaps he could find out if it would be possible to travel to the Greenwood, to aid the Elves of the Woodland Realm in their constant struggle against the Orcs of Dol Guldur. They were kin to the Galadhrim after all, if only distantly. But who knew whether he would be given permission for such a journey?

Then again, there might be a solution a little closer to home, although not so close that Orophin and Haldir would be able to reach him and render it no solution at all. The border watch were usually looking for volunteers, after all. Because each rotation on watch at the border stations lasted at least a year, often much longer, it was generally only open to volunteers, those who had no responsibilities, no families to look after, no beloveds to miss them. Rúmil wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. He was certainly qualified, both in his experience and in his lack of attachments. Each border post was occupied by two Galadhrim, watching constantly for incursions or threats, poised to send messages winging back through the trees, carried by doves to Caras Galadhon. Patrols passed through once or twice a day, and the watch posts were not so far apart that it was not possible to help out if a pair of fellow soldiers got into trouble, but otherwise it was a lonely job, and not everyone was suited to it. For Rúmil, however, it would suit his needs perfectly. Far away on the edge of the forest, the only way Haldir or Orophin would be able to reach him would be if they came through on patrol - or volunteered to be his watch partner, and he did not think they would take their protectiveness of him quite that far.

And perhaps, far away on the edge of the forest, with only one other Elf for company, he might be able to untangle the mess of knots into which his heart had tied itself, clear his head and step out from the shadows of his brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**  
>  (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008)
> 
> gwanûr-nín: my brother


	2. I Wish You Were Not My Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil has an unwelcome confrontation with Orophin, and says something he did not mean to say; Orophin does not understand, and thinks it is his fault.

Rúmil did not return to the talan until night had fallen, hoping that his brothers would have gone to bed and he would not have to face them. Haldir, of course, he would have to see as soon as possible to request his transfer to the border watch, but that would be in his capacity as Rúmil’s commanding officer, in his office, not at home where everything still reminded him of their long-ago childhood. 

Orophin, he would be happy not to see at all before he left, although he knew that he was unlikely to be able to make his escape without having to suffer at least one horribly awkward encounter.

And so it proved, and sooner than he had hoped, for as he swung himself up from the ladder, he saw that Orophin was sitting in the armchair by the window, cradling a cup of wine between his hands and looking deep in thought and thoroughly unhappy. Rúmil sighed inwardly, he couldn’t even get through the rest of the day without having to deal with his overprotective eldest brother again.

“Do not say you waited up for me to return,” he said, as calmly and quietly as he possibly could, given that Haldir was presumably asleep in his room. 

Orophin blinked as he returned to himself, and a tiny voice in the back of Rúmil’s mind told him that all was certainly not well, since his brother had not marked his arrival until he had spoken. Orophin was as experienced a soldier as his brothers, and usually nothing escaped his attention, least of all whatever Rúmil was doing in his vicinity.

“Not to fuss over you, if that is what you are assuming,” Orophin said after a moment. 

“But you still waited up. Orophin, I am not an Elfling, nor am I an irresponsible youngster. I can come and go as I please.”

Orophin sighed. “I know you are not, and I know that you can. I simply wished to talk to you, and hoped you might be in a better mood when you returned. Perhaps I was wrong.”

“Perhaps you were,” Rúmil said, but then he hesitated as he realised just how unhappy his brother looked. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I wished to apologise - again - for being too protective of you. I know you are well capable of looking after yourself. It is just that you and Haldir are my brothers, you are all I have, and I have always loved you and wanted you to be safe. So I suppose I smother you without meaning to. I am sorry, gwanûr-nín, and I will try to stop.”

Rúmil flinched inadvertently, his shoulders tightening again. Orophin had unwittingly struck uncomfortably close to the heart of the matter, but at the same time he was far wide of the mark. “Well, I wish you would,” he said after a moment. 

“I will try,” said Orophin again. “And I wish you could see that I don’t mean it as any reflection upon your skills as a warrior. You are probably more skilled than me. But…what can I say? You are my brother. I don’t quite know what I would do if anything happened to you - to either of you.”

Rúmil could not bear it any longer, and before he was quite aware of what he was saying, the words, “Well, I wish you were not my brother,” were spilling out of his mouth. The look of anguish upon Orophin’s face sent a swift blade through him, and he turned tail and fled into his bedroom, closing and barring the door. 

For a moment he simply stood still in the middle of the room, listening to the roaring silence in his ears, berating himself for saying what he had said, letting slip a piece of the secret that was knotting up his heart, and for hurting Orophin so badly. Why could he not simply have held his tongue? He had had hundreds of years of practice at it, after all.

After a while there was a soft knock on the door, and Orophin’s quiet voice asking if Rúmil was all right, asking if he could come in, but Rúmil kept his silence, hoping that his brother would think that he had fallen asleep. Orophin tried a couple of times more, but then Rúmil heard his almost-soundless footsteps retreating, and then the soft thud of his bedroom door closing. Rúmil let out a breath that he had not realised he had been holding, and sank down on the edge of his bed. Now it was certain; he had to leave Caras Galadhon, as soon as possible, and only return when he had gained mastery over his heart. And his tongue, the little voice inside him needled, and he pulled a pillow over his head and determinedly thought of nothing at all until he finally drifted off to sleep.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Orophin stood outside Rúmil’s bedroom door, no answer forthcoming to his knocking, and felt the first tendrils of true despair begin to creep into his heart. What had he done, to make Rúmil hate him so much that he wished they were not brothers? He had known for a long time that Rúmil chafed against the protectiveness that he and Haldir naturally felt towards their youngest brother, but for it to have come to this, when he knew that he and Haldir had been trying hard for so long not to smother him, or at least not to appear as though they were? 

Eventually, Orophin went to his room, picking up his mostly-ignored cup of wine on the way, although whether he would actually remember to drink it was another matter. Closing the door as softly as he could behind him, he crossed the room to gaze out of the window at the lights of Caras Galadhon, ethereal as ever in the darkness. Rúmil and Haldir truly were all he had, and if he had held onto them tighter than he should have done, surely to lose one of them like this was a far crueller punishment than he deserved. 

Orophin knew that not all Elven families were as close as he and his brothers; given the eternal lives of Elves, many families grew apart or even fell out entirely, but he had always hoped that would not be the fate of his own. He adored his brothers, wanted them to be safe and happy and above all wanted them to stay with him; when they were younger the other Galadhrim would joke about the three brothers, how they were so inseparable that you never saw one without the others. But somehow they had indeed grown apart, and Orophin had not really even realised it until it was too late.

He had known that Rúmil had been drawing apart a little for a long time, asserting his independence, Orophin had assumed. Gradually the three brothers began to take different patrols, probably thanks to Haldir’s careful drawing of the schedules. Orophin shook his head as it dawned upon him. Clearly Haldir had realised that Rúmil needed time away from at least one brother at a time, although he had never placed him on a patrol without either of them. If Haldir had noticed, Orophin thought to himself, enough to do something about it, why had he himself not done so?

Perhaps he had not wanted to acknowledge that something was wrong. Perhaps he had been happier pretending that all was well with his brothers. Perhaps - ai, it was too late for that now. Now, all that was left to him was to try to work out how he could mend the bridges between himself and Rúmil, and hopefully bring their little family back together. He did not dare to think of what might happen if that were not possible.

Speaking to Rúmil again was probably best left, for a few days at least, until his brother might have calmed down enough to be ready to talk rationally and explain what was on his mind. A few days would be the minimum, Orophin reluctantly acknowledged to himself; Rúmil had always been the most stubborn of the three of them, and in all honesty who knew how long it would take before he would be ready to talk?

No, a better place to start would be Haldir, Orophin reasoned. The middle brother kept his twin roles of commanding officer and brother carefully separated, and Orophin hoped that that skill would help him see the matter more clearly, especially as it spilled from one arena into the other and back again. Perhaps, Orophin thought, he should himself have developed the ability to separate duty and family, and perhaps then they would not be in the situation in which they now found themselves. 

He would go and see Haldir in the morning, perhaps they could walk together and talk things over. Perhaps Haldir’s detachment would help him to be able to see how to handle Rúmil’s stubbornness and hostility.

Draining his wine and setting the cup down on the bedside table, Orophin slipped out of his clothes, folding them neatly and laying them on the chair beside the bed, then took up the soft sleeping trousers that lay, also neatly folded, upon his pillow. Drawing them on, he slid under the covers, resting his head upon the pillow and closing his eyes, wondering how he would ever still his mind enough to be able to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**  
>  (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008)
> 
> gwanûr-nín: my brother


	3. Nobody To Miss Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haldir is visited in his office by both his brothers: Rúmil with a request, and Orophin with a problem.

Early the next morning, Rúmil awoke before either of his brothers; the talan was absolutely silent, and the first rays of sunlight were just beginning to creep between the leaves of the mellyrn. He had slept fitfully, his dreams disturbed by anger, guilt and shame, and he felt utterly exhausted, but he was filled with a new sense of purpose. Today he would go to Haldir and request his transfer to the border watch as soon as possible. 

Rolling to his feet, he realised that he had been so distracted last night that he had not even undressed before falling asleep. His clothes were rumpled beyond smoothing, so he swiftly changed to another set of his uniform, brushed the knots out of his hair and redid his braids, and then left the talan while Orophin and Haldir were still sleeping; the last thing he needed was to run into either of his brothers on the way. 

He planned to wait until Haldir was in his office in the headquarters of the Galadhrim, and then go to him before he had the chance to become embroiled in the business of the day. Haldir was usually an early riser and liked to begin his days early when he was not out on patrol, so Rúmil reasoned that he should not have long to wait. A few Elves were already out and about, and he bought a pastry and a hot drink from one of the vendors nearby, climbing to sit upon a branch with a good view of the comings and goings while he broke his fast. Soon he spied his brother ascending the stairs, making for his office, ramrod straight as always, ever the perfect soldier. Rúmil rolled his eyes, but at the same time he knew that Haldir’s ability to separate Captain and brother was exactly what he needed this morning.

Rúmil finished his breakfast and leapt down from the branch where he had been sitting, making his way up the stairs in his brother’s footsteps. Pausing in front of the door of Haldir’s office, he drew himself up to his full height, his back as straight as Haldir’s always was, and knocked.

“Enter,” came Haldir’s voice, sounding distracted and almost bored; whatever he was thinking, he was not expecting what was about to happen. Good, thought Rúmil, he could do with shaking out of his smug complacency every once in a while. 

Rúmil opened the door, stepping inside and closing it behind him, then coming to stand at attention in front of Haldir’s desk. Haldir’s head was bent over his paperwork and barely even registered that anyone had entered the room. 

“Captain,” said Rúmil, placing his hand over his heart in formal greeting.

Haldir looked up, the distraction immediately fading from his face as he took in his brother standing before him. “Rúmil! Mae govannen, gwanûr-nín. How may I help you?”

Rúmil could not help the tiny flinch that tightened the skin around his eyes at Haldir’s greeting. He needed to be far away from any talk of brothers.

"With all due respect, Captain, I am not here to speak to my brother. I need - I wish to speak with you as my commanding officer."

Haldir stood, immediately stepping from older brother to superior officer; it had always been an easy transition for him, after all. "Very well. What can I do for you?"

"I wish to put in a request for duty. I wish to volunteer for the border watch." Rúmil watched his brother’s face carefully; anyone else would have read nothing in Haldir’s impassive expression, but Rúmil knew his brother inside and out, and he saw the barely perceptible lift of Haldir’s right eyebrow. He was surprised at Rúmil’s request. Well, good. 

"The border watch," Haldir repeated. “It is true, we do need more volunteers. Not everybody wants to spend a year or more on the borders with only one companion; the patrols don't stop to have a conversation unless there is trouble.”

"I know, Captain.” Rúmil drew a breath. He knew he could not give Haldir the real reason for his request, but would have to justify it a different way. “I feel it is time for me to take on new responsibilities, and some time at the borders would hone my skills considerably.“

"Indeed it would. Let me just find the rotas.” Haldir shuffled among the papers on his desk, although Rúmil knew that he could have laid his hands upon the correct lists immediately. Haldir was giving himself time to think, and that alone irritated Rúmil; why could he not just do as he was asked straight away, without trying to come up with some alternative solution as he was surely doing at this very moment?

“Besides,” Rúmil said, reinforcing his point before Haldir could speak again, “I have nobody to miss me, no wife, no lover, no children; I should have joined the border watch long ago.”

Haldir glanced up at him. “Well, I don’t think that’s strictly accurate,” he said mildly. “You certainly have those who will miss you, myself and Orophin chief among them, but I can understand that you might wish to step away from us for a while.”

Rúmil cursed inwardly, careful to keep all trace of frustration from showing upon his face. Of course Haldir would have seen right through his request; it had been beyond foolish of him to expect otherwise. Still, he would not show it. As far as anyone was concerned, his reasons for volunteering for the border watch were those he had given, and none other.

Eventually Haldir seemed to find the list he was looking for, making a great show of running his finger down the page before looking up again with what Rúmil could have sworn was a faint spark of amusement in his eyes. “You’re in luck,” he said, “as it happens we do have a space for a new volunteer. Dínendal lost his partner in a skirmish a few months back, as you remember, and he is due to leave soon for his watch on the northern borders. I was going to have to shuffle the duties around, but you have saved me that trouble. Do you think you can spend a year in Dínendal’s company without wanting to kill him?” He smiled, and Rúmil gave him a faint smile in return. Dínendal was not so bad. In fact, Rúmil rather liked him; he was calm, fair-minded and possessed of a wicked sense of humour. And most of all, he was neither Haldir nor Orophin. He would be a more than acceptable partner.

“I am sure I can,” he said. “Thank you, Captain.”

“My pleasure,” Haldir smiled again. “Now, are you going to break the happy news to Orophin, or would you like me to do it?”

Rúmil shrugged, hoping to disguise his apprehension; telling Orophin that he was going off for at least a year on his own to the borders was not at all likely to be a pleasant conversation, especially not after the argument they had had last night. “You can do it,” he said, feigning a casual attitude. “I don’t care.”

"Very well. Would you rather I did it as Captain, or as Haldir?" There it was again, that barely-perceptible raise of the right eyebrow; sometimes Haldir made Rúmil want to scream with his all-knowing air. Well, there was one thing he did not know, and if Rúmil had his way, he never would.

"I don't much care,” he shrugged again. “Whichever gets you less fuss, I suppose."

Haldir smiled ruefully. "You know that's not going to happen, either way, don't you? Go on with you. I'll see you at home." He saluted, hand on heart, and Rúmil followed suit. Haldir flicked his hand in a gesture of dismissal, Captain to the last, and turned back to his papers as Rúmil left the office, closing the door again behind him.

On his way down the stairs, scanning the crowds of Elves going about their daily business below, Rúmil saw Orophin making his way towards the Galadhrim’s headquarters, a purposeful expression on his face, and he swore under his breath. Running into Orophin now was the last thing he needed. Just as Orophin looked up, perhaps feeling his youngest brother’s eyes upon him, Rúmil leapt up into the branches overhead, out of Orophin’s sight. He would make his way home through the treetops, and start to pack his things for his new duty.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Orophin looked around as he made his way to Haldir’s office; Rúmil had not been home when Orophin had risen, his bedroom door standing open and the room beyond it empty. Perhaps he was out somewhere, perhaps Orophin could contrive to run into him and try to talk to him, try to begin to put right what had gone so wrong between them. He glanced up at the stairway and a movement caught his eye, but by the time his gaze fell upon the place, there was nobody there. Perhaps he had imagined it. 

He continued on his way, pausing for a moment in front of Haldir’s door, then knocking. He did not like to disturb his brother in his office over a family matter, but it seemed there was no other way, and at least here was somewhat more neutral ground than the talan the three brothers shared. 

“Enter,” came the call, and Orophin pushed the door open, letting it fall closed again behind him. 

“Orophin,” said Haldir, looking surprised, “mae govannen, gwanûr-nín. What can I do for you?”

“Do you have a moment or two, Haldir?” asked Orophin. “I would speak with you about Rúmil, and about what happened yesterday.”

“About Rúmil?” Haldir’s eyebrows went up, just a little. “He was here only moments ago; in fact you have only just missed him.”

“Was he? How was he - how did he seem?” Orophin could not help feeling a little stung that Rúmil had gone to Haldir first, rather than coming to him.

“Resolute,” Haldir said, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “Determined to speak to me as his Captain, not as his brother.”

Orophin’s heart dropped. Another indication that Rúmil did not wish to be brother to them any longer. “What did he want?” he asked, although he was not entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“You’re not going to like it,” Haldir said, a warning tone in his voice. “Here, have a seat.” He gestured to one of the chairs standing against the wall, and Orophin took it, placing it before Haldir’s desk and sitting down somewhat apprehensively.

“What am I not going to like?” he asked after a moment, when it seemed as though Haldir was not going to continue without some prompting.

Haldir levelled his gaze at Orophin, every inch the Marchwarden all of a sudden, not the middle brother. “Rúmil asked to be assigned to the border watch. And I accepted his request. He leaves with Dínendal in a few days.”

“He - what? And you said yes?” Orophin stared at Haldir in disbelief. “But that means he’ll be gone for - what, a year? Longer?”

“That is usually the duration of the watch duty, yes,” said Haldir, only the faintest hint of sarcasm colouring his words. “I was also given to understand that the length of the duty, and its distance from home, was somewhat the point.”

Orophin looked at Haldir for a moment, silent as he attempted to marshal the thoughts crowding his mind. “This is my fault,” he said eventually. “I smothered him too much, and now he wants nothing more than to be away from me.”

“It wasn’t just you,” Haldir said patiently. “I had my part to play as well, and for that matter so did Rúmil. To be quite frank, I think some time apart will do him - do us all - the world of good.”

“But -“ Orophin cut himself off before he could give voice to his fear - _what if something happens to him?_ \- but it was as though he had spoken the words out loud, for Haldir sighed and nodded.

“I’m worried about him too, you know. As I would worry about you, in the same position, and I am sure either of you would worry about me. Rúmil is a more than capable warrior, and Dínendal too. They will look after each other perfectly well, and only the most terrible of ill luck would prevent them both returning to us as hale and healthy as the day they left. You know that in your mind, just as much as I do. I only think that the message has been slower reaching your heart than it was mine.”

“You’re right, I suppose,” said Orophin after a moment. “But I can’t help worrying about him - about both of you. And besides, that was not all I meant. I fear I have done something to warrant this, to make him wish to be far away from me - from us. I was still awake last night when he returned, and - well, words were exchanged. He told me he wishes I were not his brother.” Even repeating the words was painful, as though they began as a knife in his heart and sliced at his throat and his mouth on their way into the air.

Haldir’s eyes widened at that. “Did he? What do you suppose he meant?”

“I have no idea. Only that somehow I have managed to drive him to hate me. All I want is to put things right between us, and how can I do that when he is so far away on the borders?”

Haldir leaned across the desk, resting his hand on Orophin’s arm. “Perhaps a turn on border duty will bring many results. Rúmil can prove himself once and for all - in his own eyes, for he has long since proved himself to us. And it will give the pair of you the distance you greatly need from the situation which has arisen between you. When he returns, I would wager he will be far more likely to wish to mend the bridges between you.”

“I hope to all the Valar you are right, Haldir,” Orophin said, his voice soft and taut with pain. “I do not know what I shall do if he decides he truly no longer wants to be our brother.”

“I am sure it will not come to that,” said Haldir, squeezing Orophin’s arm gently. “Some time away will clear his head - and yours, for that matter - and when he returns you can speak to him on new ground. Now, I must attend to this pile of reports, and I think you need to go and find yourself something to eat and take a walk. I will see you at home this evening, gwanûr-nín.”

Orophin accepted the gentle dismissal, for really, what good could come of talking round in circles? He took his leave of Haldir and went in search of a late breakfast, for he had not eaten before coming to see his brother. And then, he decided, he would take a long walk in the woodland and try to let this news about Rúmil sink in. A year on the borders, maybe more. The talan was going to feel horribly empty, and it was going to be so hard to see Rúmil’s place on the patrols taken by another. Orophin was going to miss his youngest brother dreadfully - in fact, he realised, he missed him already and he had not even left yet. Orophin missed the little Elfling who had followed him around everywhere, who had accepted everything he said without question, who had adored Orophin as much as Orophin had adored him. He missed the young Elf who had learned his soldier’s craft at Haldir’s and Orophin’s hands, who had tried his hardest to excel for his brothers and who had soon become one of the Galadhrim’s very best. And he missed the Elf Rúmil had become, the strong, steadfast friend who would share confidences and offer support without ever having to be asked. When had that friend started to draw away from him? Orophin could not say. And why, why had he done so? What had Orophin done?

Perhaps Haldir was right. Perhaps some time away would do both of them good. Orophin could only accept it and hope that when Rúmil returned, all would be well again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**  
>  (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> gwanûr-nín: my brother  
> mae govannen: well met; greetings


	4. At The Edge Of Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil passes the time on watch at the border in trying to untangle the mess into which his heart has knotted itself, and admits to himself the depth of his feelings for Orophin.

Rúmil sat on the edge of the guard talan, high up in the trees on the edge of Lothlórien, watching intently for any movement, knowing that Dínendal was on the other side of the talan performing the same duty. Rúmil’s vigilance was no less for the fact that he was deep in thought; it had been many years since his daydreaming had taken his concentration away from his surroundings. A few well-placed enemy swords and arrows, near-misses and slight injuries, had cured him of that habit. Not that he had ever told Orophin or Haldir. That would have been letting himself in for unbearable amounts of fussing and scolding, and would probably have got him assigned to duties alongside either one of his brothers for the rest of eternity. Haldir he could just about cope with, for he was always the Captain on duty, never the older brother, but Orophin had never learned to step back from the role of protective oldest brother into that of fellow soldier. And that, of course, only made everything so much worse. It was bad enough when they were off duty, but when they were on duty, it meant that Rúmil could not detach himself, either, could not look upon Orophin as simply one of his fellows, and it gave him no respite from his feelings, from the knowledge that this was his oldest brother, and Rúmil should never be thinking of him in the way that he did.

He could not now remember when it was that his childish adoration of his oldest brother had turned into something else, something shameful. First it was infatuation, but over the centuries it had deepened into an abiding, despairing, hopeless love. He had tried to deny it, tried to force it aside, bury it, forget it, simply stop feeling it, but still it persisted, and he was helpless in its grasp.

For years, centuries, Rúmil had taken other lovers, seeking to quiet the ache in his heart, the longing for that which he could not have. Each had been different, each had failed to fill that place in a different way, but they had all had things in common. Pale hair, high cheekbones, clear eyes showing kind hearts. It took a long time for him to see it, but once he had, he was devastated. All that running, all that hiding in the arms of others, and all along they were just pale imitations of _him_ , every last one of them. Even the last one, who had been more of a friend than the rest, even after Rúmil had broken their affair, horrified and guilty that he had been using this gentle spirit to assuage his own shame. Rúmil had gone home that night with an empty heart, ashamed of his actions, ashamed of his feelings and desires, and crushingly, devastatingly certain that he must resign himself to a life without the touch of another, without the warmth of love to sustain him and passion to fire him. For what use were imitations, when the real thing was all he had ever wanted, and all he would never have? He had fallen asleep in the arms of his brothers, his shame only increased by his weakness over so little a thing as the ending of an affair, for he could hardly have told them of the real reason for his despair. He had clung to Haldir, and endured Orophin's embrace though it was almost unbearable, not the embrace he wanted at all. And he had begun to draw away from his oldest brother after that night, suddenly finding himself less and less able to bear his presence, so close and yet as unattainable as the Moon. He saw Orophin's bewilderment and hurt, and it broke Rúmil's heart to wound him so, but better that than to taint his perfect brother with his shameful desires. And so he drew away, and kept his secret in painful silence, trying to ignore the despair that ate its slow, dull way into his heart. He redirected it into his frustration at his brother’s protectiveness, but that did nothing to assuage it. All it did was feed resentment and bitterness, driving a wedge between the two of them.

Well, perhaps time apart would go some way towards recasting their relationship. Perhaps now that he was far away from Orophin, and likely to be so for a long time, perhaps his heart would heal over and seal away all the shameful feelings. Perhaps, given long enough apart, they might learn how to be brothers again.

Rúmil stretched, glancing around. He could just see Dínendal on the other side of the talan, staring out across the borderlands. His companion sat so still that he almost blended into the leaves and branches; from the ground they would both be invisible. 

The messenger doves in the dovecot above the talan cooed softly, their gentle calls somehow a balm upon Rúmil’s troubled mind. At least here it was quiet, most of the time, and Rúmil could drift away in his thoughts, send them meandering away from Orophin, and home, out into the world. Perhaps he would indeed volunteer to go to Eryn Galen, or to Imladris. Perhaps he would find someone at last, someone who could assuage his loneliness, replace Orophin in his heart for ever.

And he had to admit that he was enjoying the peace, and Dínendal’s company. Some days would pass without them exchanging so much as a word, and others would see them talking softly, exchanging battle stories and memories from earlier times. They took it in turns to take the night watch, and Rúmil thought that the night might be the time he liked best out here, when all was dark except for the fireflies flitting around, and the light from Ithil and Eärendil and all the other stars. Then the Golden Wood turned silver, and Rúmil always felt such a rush of love for his home that he thought he would never be able leave. How could he abandon the fairest place in Middle-Earth, even for Imladris or the Greenwood?

But of course when the sun rose, and her warm light suffused the trees so that the forest almost glowed with gold, although it was no less beautiful it would always remind Rúmil of why he could not stay. Not while he held his beautiful, golden brother in the wrong place in his heart.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The year turned, and then another. Sometimes a watch on the border could last much longer than just a year, if there were not enough volunteers to allow everyone to be relieved in time. Haldir and his fellow Marchwardens must be struggling to fill all the posts, Rúmil thought, for he and Dínendal had not yet been relieved. No matter, they had supplies enough to last up to five years, and if they had to stay longer then more would be brought to them. 

The days passed peacefully enough; occasional parties of Orcs might stray too close, but often it was enough for Rúmil and Dínendal to fire a few warning shots to send them fleeing. Patrols passed through regularly, but not one of them brought either Haldir or Orophin, for which Rúmil was silently thankful. Evidently Haldir had realised that his younger brother needed to be away from both of them, and had structured the rotas accordingly. When he returned to Caras Galadhon, whenever that might be, Rúmil thought that he should probably buy his brother at least one drink by way of thanks.

Eventually, after nearly two years had passed, a dove fluttered down to land upon the talan, just out of Rúmil’s reach. He leaned over and picked her up, gently freeing the twist of parchment from her leg, and unfurled it. Haldir’s handwriting was unmistakable; only two lines but concise and businesslike as ever, he wrote that Rúmil and Dínendal’s relief would be with them within the week. 

It was time to go home. Rúmil’s heart turned over, for he was not nearly ready to face Orophin again. He still held those shameful feelings for him, deep in his heart. Perhaps he would be able to persuade Haldir to reassign him to another post. And then another, and another, and another. What if those feelings never went away? Did that mean he would be doomed to an eternity of border patrol?

Shoving the questions aside in his mind, Rúmil went to fetch some corn and a dish of water for the dove, calling to Dínendal as he did so, “Message from my brother - our relief arrives in a matter of days.”

“I shall be glad to see Caras Galadhon again,” Dínendal called back, a smile in his voice. 

“I wish I could say the same,” Rúmil heard himself saying as he returned to his seat on the edge of the talan, though he had not intended to speak.

“Why? Do you not love our fair city, or miss your brothers?” Dínendal came to sit next to him, and Rúmil let out a hollow laugh.

“Oh, I love the city, and I miss my brothers, but often I think I would rather miss them than be with them.”

“A little bit much, are they?” Dínendal chuckled. “My sisters are so much older than me that I barely see them, but I can imagine that if I shared a talan with them I would be volunteering for the border watch within the week.”

“You could say that,” Rúmil said, feeling the beginnings of a real smile warming his face for the first time in longer than he could remember. “I’m surprised it took me this long to sign up, to be honest.”

“Has it helped? Being out here at the edge of everything for a change?”

“I suppose so, if only a little. I would gladly stay out here longer. I have not had nearly enough peace and quiet to make me ready for being fussed over again.”

“Well, maybe you’ll get the opportunity again sooner rather than later. I’m sure if you ask Haldir to be put back on the rota before your allotted year of rest is up, he’ll do it. We’re always short of volunteers, after all.” Dínendal clapped him on the shoulder and then returned to his own post on the other side of the talan, leaving Rúmil to ponder what he had said. 

A year in Caras Galadhon before returning to the borders would be unbearable. But if he could return as soon as possible, one more turn of duty might give him the clarity of mind he needed. He could do no more than ask.


	5. Something I Must Bear Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil returns from the border, but is not ready to come home; Haldir offers him a way out, on the condition that he talk to Orophin. Much against his better judgement, Rúmil confesses his feelings to Orophin.

The long walk back to Caras Galadhon gave Rúmil the opportunity to think over some more what Dínendal had said. By the time they had reached the edge of the city he had made up his mind; once he and Dínendal had delivered their report, he would go directly to Haldir’s office and request to be sent out again, and if Haldir were not there, he would find another Marchwarden to make the assignment. 

Dínendal gave the report, as the nominally senior officer, given that he had carried out many turns on the border and Rúmil only the one. Rúmil sent up a prayer of thanks to the Valar that Haldir was not one of the Wardens hearing their news; for one thing, he preferred that Haldir not be the first person he saw upon his return, and for another, it meant that he was more likely to be in his office, if he were not out on a patrol.

“Good luck with your brothers!” said Dínendal as they parted outside the reporting room and Rúmil rolled his eyes, laughing shortly. He had come to know Dínendal well these past two years, and to like him. 

“I’ll need more than luck,” he said. “Navaer, mellon-nín. Enjoy your rest-time, and perhaps I will see you again on the borders before too long.”

“Perhaps you will,” said Dínendal, hand on heart. “And you enjoy your rest too. Don’t let your brothers ruin it.” He flashed Rúmil a merry grin and turned to run lightly down the stairs. 

Rúmil, for his part, headed upwards, towards Haldir’s office. The door was open, but the room was empty; Haldir was not there. Reasoning that his Captain would not have left the door open if he were not intending to return soon, Rúmil went inside and sat down on one of the chairs against the wall. 

He did not have to wait long for Haldir to reappear. Rúmil heard his footsteps on the stairs outside, so familiar after all these years, and he stood to attention; this would go so much more smoothly with Haldir the Captain than with Haldir the Elder Brother. 

“Rúmil!” exclaimed Haldir as he entered the room and saw his brother. Crossing the floor he caught Rúmil up in an entirely uncharacteristic embrace. “Mae govannen, gwanûr-nín, it is indeed good to see you. I trust your journey back from the border was uneventful?”

Rúmil blinked, returning Haldir’s embrace in bewilderment then stepping back again and returning to attention. “Captain. It was indeed very quiet. We saw nobody.”

Haldir’s eyebrow quirked at Rúmil’s use of his title. “Oh, so that’s how it is, is it? What can I do for you, then?”

“Captain, I wish to be assigned to the border again. As soon as there is an opportunity.” He paused; he still had not come up with a means of explaining his request although he had been thinking about it since the conversation he had had with Dínendal after the messenger dove had arrived. 

“You don’t want to take your year of rest?” Haldir inquired before Rúmil could continue.

“No, I do not. I - in truth, I was not ready to come home. I had not…” he paused again, “I had not achieved the clarity of mind I was searching for. I wish to return, and try again.”

A frown, this time, tensed Haldir’s expressive brows. “What’s the matter, Rúmil? You know, Orophin has missed you terribly. He thinks he’s done something to make you hate him.”

Only the fact that he was standing to attention kept Rúmil from stepping backwards, feeling Haldir’s words like a blow to the face. He had known that he had hurt Orophin, but truly, this? “I don’t hate him,” he whispered. “I just…I find his presence overwhelming.” Which was not exactly how he would have put it if he had had chance to think about what he was going to say. Stifling, he might have said, or smothering. Overwhelming was rather too close to the truth, but hopefully still far enough away, or at least laden with more than one meaning, to be safe.

Haldir gave him a long look. “At ease, Galadhrim,” he said at last, and Rúmil moved gratefully to obey. “Is there anything - anything at all - that you would like to tell me, either as your brother or as your Captain?”

For one wild moment, Rúmil considered telling Haldir the truth. Perhaps he would be able to help, perhaps he would be able to give Rúmil advice, tell him what to do. The words were almost on the tip of his tongue when he came back to his senses, and he clamped his mouth shut until they retreated again. “No, Captain. Haldir. There is nothing. This is something I must bear alone.” 

Immediately the words were out of his mouth Rúmil cursed himself; clearly the time away had not taught him to guard his tongue, not entirely. Now Haldir knew there really was something wrong.

But Haldir only inclined his head, and said, “Is it? Well, if you ever feel that your burden may be lightened by sharing it, you will always know where to find me.”

“Thank you,” said Rúmil, relieved. “May I, then, be reassigned to the border?”

“Oh,” said Haldir, the Captain again. “Let me consult the rotas.” He went behind his desk and picked up a list, then another. “Actually, if you want a true change of scene, the Lady Celebrían wishes to visit her husband and her sons in Imladris, and to take the Lady Arwen with her. They leave within the week, and we have not yet finished assembling their guard. There is a place for you with them if you wish to go.”

“How long will they be gone?” If this were to be a short visit, it would solve none of Rúmil’s problems, he thought.

“You know the Lady Celebrían, gwanûr-nín,” said Haldir with a smile. “Perhaps a year, perhaps ten. If you are not away long enough to clear your head, I promise you I will assign you straight back to the border watch when you get home. Will that do?”

Rúmil thought for a moment. A stay in Imladris had been one of the solutions he had considered, after all, and there he might meet any number of other Elves, might even meet someone who could cast Orophin finally from his heart. “Yes,” he said. “That will do very well indeed. Thank you.”

“I will ask for one thing in return,” said Haldir, his voice suddenly serious. “Talk to Orophin before you leave. At least reassure him that he has done nothing wrong. Tell him that you do not hate him.”

“He has done nothing wrong,” Rúmil echoed. “All he has done is exist, and that’s hardly his fault. The fault is mine.” He took a deep breath. “I will speak to him.” It was the least he could do, he supposed, especially after Haldir had confirmed just how badly he had hurt Orophin before his departure. But knowing that did not mean he did not dread it.

“Thank you, gwanûr-nín. Now, I have some papers to shuffle. I will see you at home, and we will drink to your return, the three of us.”

Suitably dismissed, Rúmil left his brother to his papers, and made for home. He paused on the ladder before he entered the talan, listening for signs of occupation, but there was only silence; Orophin was not at home. Breathing a sigh of relief, he swung himself up into the living area and made for his bedroom. Nothing had changed in the time he had been away, and there was not a speck of dust anywhere. His brothers had kept his room clean for him. Somehow that touched his heart rather than smothering it; an act of kindness, not of over-protectiveness. He dropped his knapsack on the chair, and fetched a clean set of clothes out of the wardrobe. First he would visit the bath house, and then he would walk among the mellyrn until he could be sure that Haldir would be home. Then he and his brothers would drink to his return, and after that - only then would he speak to Orophin. Perhaps the wine would help.

Later, after darkness had fallen, Rúmil returned home, pausing again on the ladder until he heard two voices, Haldir’s arch tones recounting some tale of paper-pushers and Orophin’s warm, soft voice replying. Rúmil’s heart lurched within him at the sound of Orophin’s voice, but he pushed it firmly down and pulled himself up into the room. Haldir and Orophin were sitting at the table, a flagon of wine and three cups between them.

“Rúmil!” said Haldir. “We were wondering when you would join us. I trust you have spent the day recuperating, and are now ready to drink a cup of wine with us.”

“I have,” said Rúmil, trying not to look at Orophin. “I have visited the bath house, and taken a walk. It is good to be back. If a little loud, after two years of only Dínendal’s voice and the messenger doves.” He could do this. He could wear a mask, be the much-missed brother returned from his duties. He could drink wine, and pretend, and within a week or two he would be gone again. “A cup of wine would be most welcome.”

He set the bundle containing his dirty clothes down in his room, and then rejoined his brothers, taking the third chair at the table. Haldir poured the wine and pushed a cup towards each of his brothers, raising his own cup. 

“To Rúmil, and his return,” he said. “However long he chooses to stay.”

Orophin and Rúmil raised their cups too, and Rúmil could not help a glance at Orophin, seeing a flash of pain in his eyes. It was not clear whether Haldir had warned Orophin of Rúmil’s impending departure to Imladris, but Rúmil knew he owed his oldest brother an explanation at least. An explanation, and an apology.

Later, after a second cup of wine and a few stories from Rúmil’s time on the borders, Haldir excused himself to go to bed, casting a meaningful look at Rúmil behind Orophin’s back, and flicking his eyes at Orophin’s tense form. The message was clear. _Talk to him_.

Rúmil refilled his cup and Orophin’s. For this conversation, they were both going to need more wine.

A long silence hung between them, for it seemed neither of them knew quite what to say. Rúmil was halfway down his cup, casting about for a way to begin, when Orophin spoke.

“I have missed you, Rúmil. I am sorry for whatever it is that I did to drive you away.” The sadness in his eyes was almost more than Rúmil could bear; he longed to reach out and touch his face, cradle it, smooth away the sadness. But he could not, of course he could not.

“It wasn’t you,” Rúmil said. “Well, it was, but it was nothing you did. The fault was mine. _Is_ mine. I am sorry I hurt you.”

Orophin frowned, confused. “I thought…I don’t understand. I thought I had done something to make you hate me.”

Rúmil shook his head. “I don’t hate you. And the fault is mine. I - I said that I wished you were not my brother.” He paused, and tried not to notice the flinch that crossed Orophin’s face. “Not because I hate you, but because - because I love you. And I am afraid.” He drained his cup and refilled it. 

“Why are you afraid? You are my brother and I love you. What is there to fear?” Orophin frowned. 

“You don’t understand, Orophin,” said Rúmil, bitterly. “That’s not what I meant.” He couldn’t say it, he couldn’t. He mustn’t. If he said it, Orophin would hate _him_ , he would send him away and Rúmil would lose him for ever.

“What did you mean?” asked Orophin, his voice soft and full of confusion, and Rúmil felt something break inside him. He could not do this any more. He would have to say it, and be damned.

“I meant that I am in love with you. It was childish infatuation once, and so I put it away and did my best to forget it. But I am grown and have long proved myself as a soldier, and I still feel it. I cannot forget it. If it is true that each of us may hope to find one heart worthy to love in our long lives, then I have found mine. It belongs to you, and there is nothing I can do about it.” He stared into his cup, too afraid to look up, to see the disgust and outrage he was sure must be written across Orophin’s face. Bracing himself, he waited for the tirade he was sure must be about to come, for Orophin to push back his chair and stand up, walk out on him, abandon him to his misery.

But no tirade came. No sound at all. Orophin remained seated, and when Rúmil dared a glance at him from underneath his eyelashes, he seemed almost paralysed, stunned, staring at Rúmil with bewildered eyes. 

“Is…is this true?” he whispered after a moment, and Rúmil nodded. 

“It is true. I have loved you since I was old enough to know what love is. And I am ashamed.”

Orophin took a long swallow of wine. “Well,” he said after a long moment, “everything makes rather more sense now. I understand why you did not wish to be near me.”

“You sound remarkably calm,” Rúmil found himself saying. “I thought you would cast me out.”

“I could never cast you out,” Orophin said. “You are still my brother - I’m sorry to have to remind you. But this is your home as much as it is mine and you will always have a place here if you want it.”

“But why - it is wrong, what I feel. It is shameful. You should hate me for it.”

Orophin laughed, a faint breath of a sound. “I am not sure what to think just now, but I know that I could never hate you, Rúmil. And it sounds as though you are doing a very good job of hating yourself for it. Can you not forgive yourself? Can we not find some way still to be brothers? I cannot lose you. You and Haldir are all I have.”

Rúmil paused, and thought. “I suppose if you can stand to be near me, I can stand to be near you. I am sorry; I have brought great shame upon us, and great pain upon you.”

“I will be fine,” said Orophin, “now that I know I have not somehow driven you away. And I hope that in Imladris you might find peace of some kind. Someone who can love you as you deserve.”

Rúmil felt his heart break just a little at Orophin’s words, but at the same time the relief that he was not being cast out washed over him, salve for the hurt. He would go to Imladris, and he would gain mastery over his heart at last.

“Now,” said Orophin, “let us drink one more cup together, and then sleep. You will need rest after your duty and your long journey, especially if you are soon to undertake another, even longer one.” He refilled both cups and clinked his gently against Rúmil’s. 

They drank in silence, and when there was no wine left in Rúmil’s cup he pushed his chair back and stood. “Don’t tell Haldir, will you?” he asked. “I could not bear the shame, if he were to know too.”

“Your secret will be safe with me,” Orophin said, his hand on his heart. “I am only sorry I cannot solve this for you. Now go, sleep, and may Elbereth soothe you.”

Rúmil found himself having to blink back tears as he went to his room, at Orophin’s seemingly never-ending kindness. Perhaps a reckoning would come, when the true import of what Rúmil had said sank in, but with any luck he would be far away in Imladris by the time that happened, and would not have to see his beloved brother looking upon him in disgust and condemnation.

For now, though, he would take his brother’s blessing, and sleep. Suddenly he felt more tired than he had in longer than he could remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**  
>  (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> navaer: farewell  
> mellon-nín: my friend  
> gwanûr-nín: my brother  
> mae govannen: well met; greetings


	6. I Take My Leave Of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil discovers something about Haldir, and is finally able to set aside his frustration. Orophin watches Rúmil leave for Imladris and resolves to try to find a way to help ease the burden on his brother’s heart.

Taking one last walk in the Golden Wood before the departure of Lady Celebrían and Lady Arwen for Imladris, Rúmil happened to glance up and see a pair of Elves sitting on a branch, high above. One of them was Haldir, and the other - Rúmil had to stop, and look harder for a moment, but then he was sure - the other was Dínendal. They were sitting rather closer together than befitted two soldiers, or even two friends, and even as Rúmil watched, Haldir reached up and smoothed a lock of hair behind Dínendal’s ear, and then leaned in and - Rúmil looked away before their lips met, but the meaning was clear. His brother had a lover, one of long standing if the closeness he had just witnessed was anything to go by, and not only had he kept him hidden, he had assigned him as Rúmil’s partner at the border. Rúmil did not know whether to laugh, cry or scream in frustration. Even when he had thought he was free of his brothers’ eyes, Haldir still had sight of him.

“I saw you earlier, when I was out walking,” Rúmil said to Haldir later, at home; they were sitting with a flagon of wine and waiting for Orophin to return. 

“Did you?” Haldir replied. “And what is so remarkable about that?”

“Nothing, in that I saw you. Rather, in who I saw you with. It seems you are rather closer with my border watch partner than you led me to believe.”

Haldir looked surprised for a moment, and then a somewhat rueful smile crossed his face. “I see. And you are angry, because I sent you to the border with the one I trust the most beside you and Orophin.”

“I would have been, if I had known before. Now, I don’t know.” Rúmil shook his head. “I suppose somehow I am not surprised. But I hope now I have proved myself sufficiently for you to trust me on my own - or is Dínendal coming to Imladris too?”

“No, he is staying here, and taking his year’s rest. With me, when I do not have duties elsewhere.”

“How long have you been lovers? And why did you never tell us about him? We would have welcomed him as a brother. Honestly, Haldir, I like him.”

“How long? A couple of centuries, give or take, I suppose. And as for why I did not tell you, I am not sure. I suppose I wanted something that was mine alone. We have always been so close, you and I and Orophin, we have always shared so much. I think I wanted something of my own.”

Rúmil blinked in surprise - Haldir had felt a little constricted by their brotherhood, too? The world could surely never cease to amaze.

“Well, we know now, or I do, at least. Would you like me to forget I ever saw you?”

“No, I suppose not. I think by now I have learned that Dínendal is mine alone, no matter if my brothers know about him.”

“No matter if your brothers know about whom?” inquired Orophin, swinging himself up into the talan from the ladder. Haldir and Rúmil exchanged a glance, and both began to laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” Orophin demanded, but it took Haldir and Rúmil a moment or two to compose themselves.

“Do you want to tell him?” Rúmil asked, but Haldir only shrugged, and so Rúmil turned to Orophin, still biting back laughter. “It turns out that Haldir has a lover. Since two hundred years, at that, and he sent him to the border to keep watch over me while I was gone! Truly I can never escape the watchful eyes of my brothers!” He laughed again, and the concern that flashed through Orophin’s eyes soon faded as it became clear that Rúmil was not angry, or frustrated, just amused.

“It was a coincidence, I swear to you,” Haldir protested. “He needed a watch partner, and you volunteered. I did not rearrange the watches so he could keep an eye on you, I promise.”

“If you say so, Haldir,” said Rúmil, and he felt the weight of his perception of his brothers’ over-protectiveness slip away at last. He had proved himself in his own eyes as well as theirs, and stepped out from under their shadow. Now all he had to do was mend his heart.

“Haldir, I thought you had long lost the ability to surprise me, but here we are,” said Orophin. “Pour me a cup of that wine, for I think I need it!”

Haldir did as he was told, and the three brothers sat up late into the night, drinking and talking, with none of the awkwardness or frustration that had characterised their relationship for so long. The following morning Rúmil would leave for Imladris, and they would be parted again, but for now they were together.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Haldir and Orophin stood in the crowd of well-wishers as Lady Celebrían and Lady Arwen set off for their other home, flanked by their guards. Rúmil flicked his eyes to them as he marched past, but protocol forbade him from otherwise acknowledging them. A flurry of activity, well-drilled Elves marching in unison down from Caras Galadhon, and then they were gone. 

“It seems as though you and Rúmil have resolved your differences,” said Haldir as he and Orophin made their way back home. 

“More or less,” said Orophin. “But I fear he carries a heavy burden, and only he can find the strength to set it down. I hope that in Imladris he will find the help he needs to do so.” He could not quite keep the sadness out of his voice, and Haldir glanced at him.

“Is it something I can help with? I asked him, when he came to me to ask for reassignment, and I thought he was about to tell me something, but then he stopped.”

“No. I’m sorry, Haldir, for he asked me not to tell you. It is something for him to bear, and it is for him to find the answer.” _And for me to bear, too_ , he thought, but he did not say it. 

Orophin still did not really know what to think about the confession Rúmil had made to him on the night he returned from the border. He knew that he should be shocked, outraged, perhaps even disgusted, but he found that he felt none of those things. Surprise, yes, for it was something he had never expected, but how could he be disgusted or outraged when it was Rúmil, whom he had loved since the moment he was born, and who was so clearly suffering terribly under the weight of his feelings? He could not help the way he felt, and surely Orophin’s job in this whole sorry affair was to support his brother in whatever way he needed until he could come to terms with the contents of his heart and perhaps find someone to help him rewrite them.

Orophin knew that he was going to have to give this a great deal of thought. He turned it over in his mind, but the shape of it was unfamiliar and he did not quite know how to approach it or what it meant. Rúmil had come back from the border changed, that much was clear. He was calmer, more confident, he almost carried himself differently, more upright, more relaxed. The tension and frustration that had consumed him before he had left was gone, but now the inner misery they had been masking was far plainer to see. Or perhaps Orophin could only see it because now he knew its cause. 

The thought of his youngest brother carrying this burden alone for so long made Orophin’s heart constrict painfully. Nobody to talk to, nobody to reassure him that these feelings may one day pass, nobody to convince him that he need not be quite so ashamed. It was true that love between siblings was not something that was practised among the Elves, or not that Orophin was aware, but given their long history and eternal lives, he couldn’t help thinking that probably someone, somewhere, might have been through this before; and if they had been cast out for it, it would have given them fame, and even he and his brothers would have heard of them, though they were not well-read in the history of their people. The education and training of the Galadhrim tended towards accounts of battles and the theory of warcraft, not what their forebears had actually done with their lives. Perhaps, if he visited the library belonging to the Lord and Lady of the Wood, he might find stories too obscure to be told to Elflings as cautionary tales. 

He would not be able to ask for help in finding these stories, of course, for he had promised Rúmil he would keep his secret. And libraries were not his natural habitat, so he had quite the task ahead of him, but if he could find something, anything to bring succour to his youngest brother’s heart, it would be more than worth the effort.


	7. At The Last Homely House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil settles in to Imladris, and finds himself thoroughly unnerved by Elrond’s twin sons.

Rúmil’s first few days in Imladris were a bewildering whirl of activity, formality and rules. Their journey had been uneventful enough and their arrival joyous, and Rúmil had been almost spellbound by the beauty of the Valley of the Bruinen and the Last Homely House from his first glimpse of it between the trees. They had ridden through an ornately carved stone arch into a courtyard dotted with trees, and it had been easy enough to pick out the members of Lady Celebrían’s and Lady Arwen’s family among the welcoming party: two identical black-haired Elves almost as beautiful as Lady Arwen herself, and Lord Elrond himself, so similar to his children, but with a slight difference to his features that spoke of his Half-Elven blood. Lady Arwen had slipped down from the saddle of her horse and run to her brothers, and first one and then the other had picked her up and swung her around in a delighted but surely indecorous embrace, and then they had set her down in front of her father and calm had fallen over the whole party, as Lord Elrond stepped forward and embraced his only daughter so tightly that it was clear how much he had missed her. Lady Celebrían had remained mounted, riding forward until her sons could take the reins of her horse and help her dismount, and then she had embraced them both, pressing a kiss to each forehead, before approaching her husband. 

Rúmil had the impression that there was some tension at first between the Lord and Lady of Imladris, but then Lord Elrond had taken Lady Celebrían’s hand and kissed it, and then drew her close to embrace her and it was as though all the tension melted away. Then the rest of the welcoming party gathered round, greeting the Ladies with affection and joy, while their guard stood at attention beside the horses and, at least on Rúmil’s part, wondered what they were supposed to do now. 

Eventually one of the Elves from the welcoming party drew away and approached the Galadhrim, his arms wide in a gesture of welcome. “Mae govannen, mellyn-nín. My name is Lindir, and I am steward to Lord Elrond. You are most welcome here in Imladris. Please follow me, and I will show you to your quarters.”

The Galadhrim fell into line behind him as he led them from the courtyard and through one corridor after another until they reached what appeared to be the garrison of Imladris. There was a small and simply-furnished room for each soldier, and at the end of the corridor there were washing facilities and a refectory. 

“Please make yourself at home,” said Lindir, “and when you are ready, you may come to the refectory and take your refreshment. You may rest and walk in the gardens, and if any of you should wish to join our border patrols, please let me know. The highest house is the residence of Lord Elrond and his household, and is thus out of bounds, but you may feel free to explore the lower houses. We have a library, should any of you wish to use it, and the practice arenas for swordsmanship and archery are close by. Now, if there are no questions, I will leave you to settle in.” And with a swish of his robes he was gone, leaving the Galadhrim to take their ease, some of them exchanging amused glances. 

“It’s always like this here,” explained one of the others, whose name Rúmil could not recall. “All bound up with rules and protocol, and you can guarantee you won’t see Lady Celebrían until it’s time to take her home again to Lothlórien. You might catch a glimpse of Lady Arwen walking in the gardens, and some of Lord Elrond’s household come to the refectory, but otherwise you’ll only be seeing the rest of us, and Imladris’ guards.”

“I’d recommend signing up for the border patrols,” put in another. “Otherwise you’ll quickly find yourself going out of your mind with boredom. It’s good to keep in practice, and the country here is greatly different to the Golden Wood.”

Rúmil mulled over their words as he unpacked his small knapsack in the room allotted to him. The stone walls were painted white, and the small size of the room felt somewhat claustrophobic compared to his room in the talan he shared with his brothers high in the trees of the Golden Wood, but there was a tall window in the end wall which looked out over the woods and the houses and Rúmil found that the view was rather beautiful, if not what he was accustomed to. He picked up his clean uniform and made for the washing facilities to cleanse himself of the dust from the road, and then, dressed in his clean clothes and feeling much more comfortable, he returned his dirty clothes to his room and then went to the refectory. 

Pushing open the ornately carved wooden doors, he stepped into a long room with a vaulted stone ceiling and rows of long tables with benches either side of them. At the end of the room was a counter, and groups of Elves were fetching food and drink and sitting in clusters at the tables, some of them wearing what Rúmil assumed must be the uniform of the guards of Imladris, and some of them his fellow Galadhrim. He joined a few of his comrades at the counter, fetching a bowl of stew and a cup of water, and went to sit down and eat, looking around him in wonder all the time, for this was so different from his home. 

The vaults of the ceiling were carved with trailing vines and the stone walls were painted a soft grey, with here and there a painting of some or another event in Elvish history. The paintings seemed to be on a military theme, unsurprising for the refectory of a garrison, Rúmil considered. 

When they had finished eating, Rúmil and a few of his comrades made their way outside to explore the gardens. One of them who had visited Imladris before led the way, pointing out the various sights and explaining in an undertone the names and deeds of the various Elves they had seen on their arrival. 

“Lord Elrond is obvious, of course, and his two sons, Elladan and Elrohir, worthy warriors they are. A bit strange, but I suppose that comes with being twins,” he said. “They often come to the refectory, since they are members of the guard. I think they find it more comfortable than their father’s house. Then there is Lord Glorfindel, the tall one with the golden hair. Rumour has it that he is truly Glorfindel of Gondolin, reborn and sent back to Middle-Earth with some great purpose, but who knows whether that’s true. Lindir you’ve met, and Master Erestor is the one with the black hair who was standing next to Lord Glorfindel. He’s Lord Elrond’s secretary or his assistant or something, I don’t know quite what. You’ll see him in the library, if you ever venture there.”

Rúmil listened intently, keen to learn everything he would need to know about the place which he would be calling home for who knew how long. There seemed to be so many things one could and could not do here, places one could and could not go, if one were only a humble soldier from the Golden Wood. It was very different from Lothlórien, where the only place one did not go without an invitation was the palace of the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn. Here, it seemed, there were myriad places which were off-limits to the garrison, and Rúmil only hoped that he could remember them all, and manage not to stray from the places he was permitted to be.

As the days went by, however, and he began to settle in, everything began to feel a little less strange. Rúmil found the buildings oppressive, beautiful though they were with their carved stonework and wooden decoration, their wall-paintings and coloured glass windows; accustomed as he was to the spacious wooden telain and limitless fresh air of his home, the Last Homely House did not feel all that homely to him. But the gardens and the waterfalls were wonderful and the woodland that surrounded them was familiar enough to ease the sting of homesickness when it arose within him. 

Rúmil soon signed up for the border patrol, finding as his comrade had suggested that he otherwise had far too much time on his hands, time in which he could not stop thinking of Orophin and the strange way he had left him, dreading that he would return to Lothlórien to find that his brother had come to his senses and wanted nothing more to do with him. 

On his first sortie he found that he had been assigned to a patrol led by none other than the sons of Elrond themselves, the twins Elladan and Elrohir. Rúmil could not help feeling intimidated, for the twins’ reputation as fearsome warriors preceded them, but he reminded himself that he was a relatively fearsome warrior too, and determined that he would do his best to uphold the good name of the Galadhrim.

The patrol was mostly uneventful, and the twins and their companions passed the time by exchanging stories, while Rúmil listened intently, wanting to pick up as much as he could. The twins had a strange way of speaking, sometimes finishing each other’s sentences, sometimes switching from one to the other and back again in the telling of a story, so seamlessly that one almost did not notice there were two voices in the telling, and sometimes speaking in unison so closely that they sounded almost like one voice. They never left each other’s side, unless it was absolutely necessary, and when the patrol came across a small band of Men hunting where they should not, it was the twins who drove them away, moving as one and crying out in unison so that the Men were so unnerved and frightened that all they could do was to turn tail and flee. 

Rúmil found himself watching the twins in fascination over the days and weeks that followed, for he had never encountered anyone quite like them before. Sparring in the practice ground with some of their companions they again moved as one, fighting back to back or side by side with uncanny precision and grace. They came to the refectory occasionally, although Rúmil never dared to approach their table, sitting instead with some of his fellow Galadhrim and watching them from under his eyelashes. He did not quite know what to make of them, and if he were completely honest with himself they frightened him somewhat. They were indeed more than a little bit strange, but perhaps it was as his comrade had said, perhaps it was simply because they were twins. Rúmil found that he was anxious for a chance to prove his worth to them, although he was also more than a little wary of how it would feel to have their attention turned upon him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> mellyn-nín: my friends


	8. An Acquired Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil gets to know the twins, and they introduce him to Hobbit ale, while also beginning to get the measure of him and the contents of his heart.

Rúmil’s chance to prove his worth to the sons of Elrond came sooner than he was expecting, for only a few weeks after his arrival, out on patrol with the twins’ company again, they found themselves having to see off a band of Orcs which had strayed too close to the Ford of Bruinen. The skirmish was quick, bloody and brutal, and Rúmil felt he acquitted himself well, dispatching a goodly number of the foul, pallid-skinned creatures without so much as needing to catch his breath. Towards the last he found himself fighting close to the sons of Elrond, and the three of them finished off the last of the raiders together, exchanging triumphant glances when all of the Orcs were dead, although the fever of battle soon wore off and Rúmil lowered his gaze again and melted back into the company, feeling awkward and somewhat lowly next to the sons of the Lord. 

Still, in the refectory that night they called Rúmil over to join them at their table when he entered the room, and one of the twins himself pushed a brimming cup across the table at him as he took his seat. 

Rúmil took the cup and was about to take a sip of its contents, assuming it to be wine, but the smell that assailed his nostrils was entirely different and he could not help himself, his eyes widened and his eyebrows went up, what was this?

The twin who had handed him the cup let out a roar of laughter, and the other one leaned across the table. “It’s Periannath ale, mellon-nín. Our father has some contact with the Halflings, from time to time, and my brother and I have gained a taste for their brew. Sometimes one wants something more refreshing than wine, we find.”

Rúmil took an experimental sip of the ale, inwardly dazzled at being called ‘mellon-nín’ by so exalted an Elf as one of the twin sons of the Lord of Imladris, and tasted - what was it? Bitterness and sweetness all at once, something almost herbal, something like the taste of bread, and certainly nothing like the taste of wine. It was indeed more refreshing, but Rúmil was not entirely sure that he liked it.

“Your face!” crowed the first twin, and the second elbowed his brother in the ribs. 

“It’s an acquired taste, for sure,” he said, “and of course you may have wine instead if you would prefer it, but I would recommend giving it until the bottom of your cup before you decide.”

Rúmil decided that he was being accorded a great honour, being invited not only to drink at the twins’ table but to drink the ale that they themselves preferred, and he took a deep draught of the ale, finding that the second mouthful was not as jarring as the first. “It’s good,” he said, “thank you.”

“We know,” said the first twin, “which is why we gave you some,” and he flashed Rúmil a sharp, deadly smile. “You fought well today. I hope the Galadhrim are suitably proud to have you in their ranks.”

Rúmil did not quite know what to say to that. “I do my best to serve our Lady and our Lord,” he said eventually, and took another mouthful of ale, sending up a silent prayer to the Valar for the courage to see him through this encounter.

“That much is clear,” said the second. “What is your name?”

“I am Rúmil,” he said. “Brother of Haldir the Marchwarden of the Northern Wood, and of Orophin of the Galadhrim.” He was so nervous of the situation that even saying Orophin’s name did not send the usual sharp pain through him.

“Oh, we know Haldir,” said the first twin. “Always found him a little too pleased with himself for our liking, but you seem all right.”

Rúmil could not help the laugh that escaped him at the twin’s words. “He can be so, at times,” he acknowledged. “But he is a fine soldier, and a good brother.”

“And those are both things to be valued,” said the second twin. “I am Elrohir, and this is my brother Elladan. I think you already know of our family, since you escorted our mother and our dear sister to us.”

Rúmil nodded. “Yes, although I do not know your lady mother or your lady sister to speak to, of course.”

“No indeed,” said Elladan somewhat acidly, and Rúmil was on the verge of assuming he had somehow said something wrong when he continued. “Our mother is not particularly accomplished at socialising with her people. You’d like Arwen, though, or at least, I think she would like you. She isn’t quite grown-up enough yet to want to abide fully by our mother’s rules.”

Rúmil really did not know what to say to that, so he covered his consternation by taking another mouthful of his ale. The second twin - Elrohir - had been right, it was indeed tasting better each time. 

“Perhaps she never will,” said Elrohir. “I like to think so. She’s fun now, and she wouldn’t be any fun at all if she became entirely like our mother.”

“Very true,” said Elladan. “Now, Rúmil of the Galadhrim, tell us of your brothers. What’s Haldir like when he’s not being insufferably pompous?”

Rúmil couldn’t help laughing, and he began to describe his two brothers, choosing his words with care as he drank a little more of his ale. “Haldir is a fine brother and an excellent soldier; indeed, he is commanding officer to us both, although he is the middle brother, not the oldest. He actually has a sense of humour, when you get to know him, but he’s good at hiding it. He’s just very good at putting informality aside for his duty, and I suppose you won’t have met him when he isn’t on duty, so you won’t ever have seen his merry side.”

“True, I suppose,” said Elrohir. “And what of Orophin? Is he the youngest brother, or the eldest? Or should I say, are you the eldest brother, or the youngest?”

Rúmil took a breath, steeling himself. He could do this. “I am the youngest, and Orophin is the eldest, although truly there are only forty or so years between us, and Haldir is in the middle, we are twenty years either side of him. Orophin is - he is kind, and steadfast, and he always looks out for his brothers. Once I found him a little stifling, but now - now I find I miss him, when I am away.”

Unseen by Rúmil, a glance passed between the twins, full of unspoken meaning and silent understanding.

“But you don’t miss Haldir,” said Elladan, with a mischievous grin.

Rúmil blinked, caught out, and the first hint of a blush began to warm his cheeks before he could stop it. “Of course I miss both of my brothers,” he said, “but Haldir and I were never quite as close. And besides, as I think you have both gathered, my lords, my middle brother can be a little bit much at times.” He felt disloyal for saying it, but hoped that he had covered up any hint of his unconventional feelings about his eldest brother. 

“Ai, Valar, do not call us ‘my lords’,” Elladan burst out. “It makes us feel so insufferably…”

“Ancient,” Elrohir picked up his twin’s thought. “And significant, which we are determined not to be. Fame is for our father, and his friends.”

“Glorfindel, for example, perhaps the most famous Elf of all,” said Elladan.

“Or so he keeps telling us,” both twins finished in unison, and Rúmil could not help a shiver at the sound, uncanny but melodious and - Rúmil suddenly knew with certainty - dangerous. He was going to have to be careful with the twins.

“Is he really - ?” Rúmil asked to distract himself from the turn of his thoughts, and Elrohir finished his question for him when he paused.

“ _The_ Glorfindel? Well, he seems to think so.”

“Nobody is quite sure,” said Elladan, “but he certainly fights like the real one.”

“And talks like him, and tells tales of his exploits in the first person rather than the third, so all in all - “ Elrohir put in, and Elladan finished:

“- we believe that he is. You’ll have to meet him. He’s a lot of fun.”

Rúmil wasn’t sure that the legendary saviour of Gondolin, somehow reborn and living among his fellow Elves, would be the sort of person who could be described as ‘fun’, but he had to own that he had never met him, and the twins, who knew him, were far more likely to be right.

“He comes down here sometimes,” said Elrohir, “when he loses patience with my father and Erestor, if they’re being particularly learned.”

“Which they spend a lot of time being,” said Elladan. “So he’ll more than likely turn up at some point while you’re here.” 

“And we’ll be sure to introduce you,” Elrohir put in. “More ale?”

Looking into his cup, Rúmil realised that he had almost finished his ale, and that he had come to like it, more or less. “Yes please,” he said, and held out his cup for Elrohir to refill it from the flagon in the middle of the table.

After that evening, it seemed that the twins took a liking to Rúmil. They always made sure he was included in their company on patrol, and when they came to the refectory they always invited him to sit at their table. Often they asked him about his brothers, and although he did not realise it, many glances passed between them when he spoke of Orophin. No other would have noticed it, the undercurrent to his words when he spoke of his oldest brother, but Elladan and Elrohir were not like their fellows, and they knew many things that their fellows did not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> mellon-nín: my friend


	9. Some Things Are Too Precious To Give Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins offer Rúmil some advice and share some of their knowledge in hopes of comforting and reassuring him.

The months passed, and Rúmil began to feel more at home in Imladris. With the turn of each season he learned to love the woods and gardens, the green of spring and gold of summer, the bronze of autumn and the silver of winter. He would never be entirely able to grow accustomed to living in the buildings, he would always find them enclosing and almost oppressive, but he could bear it, for it was only temporary. He would return to his home eventually, and live free in the trees and breathe the fresh air again.

One evening he was sitting in the refectory with the twins and a few others, and the conversation turned to the other Elven realms, and the visitors they sometimes sent to Imladris to talk with Lord Elrond.

“The Lord of the Greenwood, it’s always fun when he’s here. He and Ada always look like they’re having a competition to see who can be the most pompous.” Elladan grinned. Rúmil was no nearer to being able to tell the twins apart, but he had noticed that Elladan tended to stand or sit on the left, as you looked at them, and Elrohir on the right. At least, he thought that was the right way round, and he had found that Elrohir was usually gentler in his speech and Elladan blunter. It sometimes took a good while into the conversation before Rúmil thought he had worked out with any accuracy who was speaking.

“Who wins?” Rúmil asked, enthralled; he had seen King Thranduil in the distance once, when he had paid a visit to Lothlórien, but had not been close enough to form an impression, except of great and somewhat forbidding grandeur. 

“It’s disloyal of us to say so,” said Elrohir with a laugh in his voice, “but almost always Thranduil. I think he is the most pompous creature ever to walk these lands.” 

“His son’s not too bad, though. He’s only young, like you, Rúmil, but he at least has a sense of fun, and a sense of his father’s ridiculousness. Passing fair, too.” Elladan gave an appreciative smile.

“Aye, that he is,” said Elrohir. “He’s wasted on the Greenwood, that one.”

“Quite frankly,” said Elladan after a moment, “I’m beginning to think that young Rúmil here is wasted on Lothlórien. How would you like to stay in Imladris and join our ranks permanently?” There was a look in his eye that Rúmil could not quite interpret, and he was not entirely convinced that Elladan was being completely serious. 

“I am honoured,” Rúmil said, somewhat hesitantly, “but I could not leave my home for good. There is too much there I would miss.” He realised as he spoke the words that they were true; for all his contemplation of leaving the Golden Wood to find a cure for what ailed him, he knew now, having been away, that he could never forsake his home.

“Your brothers, for example,” said Elrohir, and Elladan quickly chimed in, 

“But not Haldir, of course,” he said with a chuckle; the twins’ perception of Haldir as pompous had become something of a standing joke between them, and Rúmil would always defend his brother, although sometimes he could not help but play along a little bit, disloyal though it made him feel.

“Of course I miss Haldir. I would miss both of my brothers, if I did not return to my home.”

“Of course you would. Some things are too precious to give up,” said Elrohir softly, and only because he happened to be looking directly at Elrohir did Rúmil notice his gaze flickering for a moment to his twin, and Elladan meeting his eyes with the smallest of smiles. 

Later, in his little room, Rúmil found himself thinking over that look between the twins. What could this mean? Was it possible that the bond between the two of them was more than that of brothers, more than that of twins? They were uncannily close, it was true, but then they were twins, after all, and had never been separated in all their lives, even before their birth. 

But if it were true, though surely unlikely, then it would mean that Rúmil was not alone, and perhaps they would understand. If only he knew how to ask, or knew whether he even should.

A month or so after that night, Rúmil was sitting in the gardens, resting on a bench close to the edge of one of the waterfalls, gazing into the distance. Imladris truly was beautiful, but he was finding that the longer he was away from home, the more he missed Lothlórien, and the more he missed his brothers. Especially Orophin, he had to admit to himself. He had found no solace here at the Last Homely House, had found no one to help him banish his oldest brother from his heart. Perhaps there was nobody in the world who could achieve that feat. Perhaps it was time to resign himself to spending eternity alone.

Lost in thought, he did not hear the two pairs of near-soundless footsteps approaching behind him, and indeed he only realised he was no longer alone when Elladan sat down on one side of him and Elrohir on the other. Rúmil jumped, taken completely by surprise, and Elladan laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

“It seems the Galadhrim are not so famously alert as their reputation would have us believe, gwanûr-nín,” he said. 

“Or perhaps it is just that we are more silent and fleet-footed than any of our people,” said Elrohir with a smile, resting his hand on Rúmil’s other shoulder. “Or perhaps it is just that our friend was lost in thought and not expecting anyone to approach.”

“I hope it is the last two,” said Rúmil when he had regained his composure. “I was thinking about home, and I suppose I was not concentrating on my surroundings. Besides, I thought I was in safe territory, and did not need to be on my guard.”

“He makes a good point, gwanûr-nín,” said Elladan. 

“He does, at that, gwanûr-nín,” Elrohir replied. “You seem troubled, Rúmil.”

“I suppose I am,” said Rúmil. “I was just thinking of how much I miss my home, and my brothers.”

“But not Haldir,” said Elladan, and Rúmil had to laugh.

“Even Haldir,” he said. “But…you are right, for I do miss Orophin more.”

“We thought so,” said Elrohir. “And we came to offer you counsel, if you would have it. Or, at the very least, a morsel of comfort.”

“One of the things about being the sons of one of the greatest scholars known to Elvenkind is that our education consisted not only of warcraft, but also of diplomacy and of book-learning,” said Elladan, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Languages, history, that sort of thing.”

“Myths and legends and tales of our forebears,” said Elrohir, taking up the thread. “And we have learned of many things that most of our people do not know about, or do not remember.”

“Many customs and practices that now lie forgotten between the pages,” said Elladan. “For example, that love between She-Elf and She-Elf, or He-Elf and He-Elf, is not as unheard-of as some would have you believe.” 

“That I did know,” said Rúmil quietly, almost despite himself, very unsure of where this conversation was heading. “My brother - Haldir, I mean - has a lover, although he did not tell us about him for many long years. And I - I have…” He trailed off, not quite sure what it was wise to say, and what would be best left unspoken.

“I know,” said Elrohir gently. “And there is another unspoken law, even lesser-known. That siblings may love, and not fear banishment. There is only one rule.”

“And what is that?” Rúmil whispered, his mind scrabbling to encompass what he was being told, fearing what the answer might be.

“That no children may come of the union,” said Elladan. “So sister may love sister, and brother may love brother, but sister and brother - well, they would have to be very careful indeed.” There was the hint of a smile in his voice, just the tiniest bit of levity to lighten the conversation, and he tightened his grip on Rúmil’s shoulder for a moment.

“As we say, most do not remember these customs and practices, but the oldest and wisest of our people know of them. So if there were a pair of brothers in the Golden Wood who were more than simply brothers, they would have to be careful, but their Lady and their Lord would remember, and understand, and would not cast them out.” Elrohir, too, tightened his grip on Rúmil’s other shoulder. “Do not fear, mellon-nín. The Valar are not vengeful - “

“Or not these days, anyway,” Elladan put in.

“The Valar are not vengeful,” Elrohir repeated himself firmly, “and they would not condemn an Elf for what truly lies at the centre of his heart. He would have a hard path to walk, but their blessing would remain upon him.”

Rúmil found himself having to swallow hard against the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat, and blink back the tears that had sprung unbidden to his eyes. He did not know what to say.

“No need to thank us,” said Elladan after a moment. “We like you, Rúmil of the Galadhrim, and our greatest wish for you is that you can find it within yourself to be happy. If we can help you in any way, you need only ask.” He rested his head against Rúmil’s, and Elrohir, on the other side, did the same. 

They sat thus in silence for a long time, watching the sun dip beneath the trees. Rúmil’s mind was racing as he tried to comprehend all that the twins had told him, and to fathom their reasons for doing so. Come to that, their reasons for seeking out this knowledge at all. Perhaps he had read that glance between them correctly after all.

Eventually, Elladan straightened up. “I don’t know about you two, but I could most certainly do with a drink.”

“A drink would be most welcome,” said Elrohir, and Rúmil nodded; he found that somehow, at long last, the Valar seemed to have stopped up his tongue.

“Come on,” said Elladan. “Not to the refectory, I cannot be doing with the other guards this evening. We have a few bottles of a particularly fine Dorwinion vintage in our chambers.”

“But,” said Rúmil, a little shakily, finding that his voice did still exist after all, “the highest house is out of bounds to the garrison.”

“Not when you’re with us, it isn’t,” said Elladan. “Our house, our rules.”

“Well, really, it’s Ada’s house and his rules, plus a few of Nana’s, but not one of them says that we can’t have guests,” said Elrohir, getting to his feet and extending a hand to Rúmil to pull him up. “No one will question your presence while you are with us.”

And so it was that Rúmil gained entry to the highest house in all of Imladris, flanked on either side by Elrond’s twin sons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**  
>  (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> ada: father (informal)  
> gwanûr-nín: my brother  
> nana: mother (informal)  
>   
> The ‘laws and customs’ here directly contradict [canon](http://www.ansereg.com/what_tolkien_officially_said_abo.htm), but given that most Tolkien fic contradicts canon in one way or another, I figure it’s okay. Besides, this is intended as being a (mostly) angst-free, sweet, escapist romance with a happy ending, so I have no compunction in declaring That Sort Of Thing okay by the laws and customs of Elvenkind for the purposes of this story!


	10. With Us You Need Have No Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil meets Glorfindel - yes, _that_ Glorfindel - and is counselled and comforted further by the twins, who have a secret of their own. In other words, the questions Rúmil had about them are answered - very much in the affirmative.

Rúmil followed Elladan and Elrohir up long flights of stairs and between waterfalls, climbing steadily until they reached the highest house. Elladan pushed open the richly carved wooden door and Elrohir ushered him through, and it was all Rúmil could do to keep from staring around him as they walked through the halls. The rest of Imladris was beautiful, to be sure, but here in the home of Lord Elrond himself the artistry was unsurpassed. 

“You can close your mouth if you like,” said Elladan, and Rúmil, who had not realised his mouth was even open, did so with a snap. 

“It can be a little overwhelming the first time you see it,” said Elrohir kindly. “When you’re used to it you barely notice it, but first sight is something else entirely.”

“I’m just not used to - well, to all of this,” said Rúmil, gesturing vaguely around him at the paintings and the silver and the ceramics, and feeling distinctly out of place in his much-worn grey-green clothes. “My own home is much more humble. Even the very centre of Caras Galadhon, the palace of the Lady and the Lord…well, you’ve been there. You’ve seen it, it’s nothing like this.”

“It is still very fair,” said Elrohir. “Especially at night, with all the little lights. Don’t be ashamed, Rúmil. The Golden Wood has beauty of its own.”

“Besides,” said Elladan, “Ada likes to show off.”

“Well, that’s one way of putting it,” came a voice from above. Rúmil stopped in his tracks as he saw the speaker and realised that it was Glorfindel, standing at the top of the flight of stairs in front of them.

“How would you say it, then?” Elladan asked, and Glorfindel smiled. 

“Your father has lived a long life and lost many of those he loved,” he said. “My guess would be that he has filled his house with beauty in order to remember them all.” He smiled again, and Rúmil had to look away, for his brightness was almost dazzling. “By the way, who’s your friend?”

“This is Rúmil, of the Galadhrim,” said Elrohir. “Rúmil, mellon-nín, may we present to you Glorfindel of Imladris - and quite possibly of Gondolin.”

“Quite possibly!” said Glorfindel indignantly, although he was still smiling. “Insolent Elfling. Rúmil, you must excuse these two, for although they are long past their majority, it seems they still have not quite learned to respect their elders. It is a pleasure to meet you. I have not visited your woodland home in many a long year, but I still remember its beauty.”

Rúmil pulled himself together enough to place his hand on his heart and incline his head. “It is my honour to meet you, Lord Glorfindel.”

“Oh, pish, call me Glorfindel. Everyone else does who knows me. It’s bad enough everyone knows my name and how I died and returned, without being lorded and sir’d by everyone I meet. I am just as much an ordinary soldier as you are, Rúmil of the Galadhrim. I am glad to make your acquaintance.” Glorfindel came down the stairs to stand before them, and placed his hand over his heart, inclining his golden head as Rúmil had.

Rúmil was not at all convinced, but did not dare to say so. Risking a glance upwards, he saw that now he was used to the brightness, Glorfindel was not quite so dazzling. He was very tall, taller even than Orophin or the twins, and his hair could have been made of spun gold, tumbling down his back in waves. His eyes were blue as cornflowers, and although he was wearing a tunic and leggings, he looked as though if you looked at him out of the corner of your eye, he would be wearing golden armour.

“If you’ll excuse us, Glorfindel,” said Elladan after a moment, seemingly taking pity on Rúmil’s bewilderment, “we have an urgent appointment in our chambers with some of that particularly fine Dorwinion vintage.”

Glorfindel laughed. “Go on with you, then. As it happens I have an equally urgent appointment with a bottle of the same vintage and Master Erestor. Be careful with these two, Rúmil, and don’t let them get you into any trouble.” He flashed another brilliant smile and then turned and disappeared through one of the doors that lined the corridor, and Rúmil blinked once, twice. 

“It’s all right,” Elrohir said. “Like the house itself, Glorfindel is a little bit overwhelming the first time you meet him, so taken together they really are a bit much. After a while you get used to him. I’m surprised he hasn’t been down to the refectory since you’ve been here, then you could have met him in less dizzying circumstances.”

“Too busy with Master Erestor and the Dorwinion vintage,” said Elladan archly. “Come on, I _really_ need that drink now.”  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Settled in the twins’ chambers, each of them in an armchair around the fireplace with a cup of the much-vaunted Dorwinion vintage in each pair of hands, Rúmil felt much more comfortable. Although the architecture was just as fine as elsewhere in the highest house, these rooms were much more simply furnished, clearly the quarters of a pair of warriors. Only a wide, well-stacked bookshelf across one of the walls betrayed that the sons of Elrond were scholars and diplomats as well as soldiers. Rúmil could not help looking around him, far less intimidated here than in the halls below, where he had almost feared to look at all the beautiful decoration. 

“Do you prefer it in here?” Elrohir asked, and Rúmil nodded.

“Forgive me, for I do not wish to be rude about your father’s house, but…”

“It’s all right,” said Elladan, “we’re rude about Ada’s house all the time so we’ve probably heard it all before.”

“It’s just…I don’t know how to put it, it’s almost _too_ beautiful. So many exquisite things. Not that there are not exquisite things in here, but…”

“There aren’t as many of them,” said Elladan. “Also, nothing in here is breakable, more or less. We spent our younger years permanently terrified that we were going to break something, out there.”

“A good few times we nearly did,” said Elrohir with a soft laugh. “Like the time we were playing chase with Arwen, when she was really little, no taller than a Periannath, and you crashed into the table bearing Ada’s favourite vase, the one with the story of Maedhros and Maglor painted all around it. If Glorfindel hadn’t been there to catch it, I shudder to think what Ada would have done.”

Elladan laughed out loud at Elrohir’s tale. “I do remember. Glorfindel appeared as if from nowhere and grabbed it just at the last moment. I don’t think my heart has ever beaten that fast in my life.”

“He seems…” Rúmil cast about for the right words. “Not at all as I had expected him to be,” he said, giving up his quest after only a few moments.

“Oh, he isn’t grand at all,” said Elrohir. “He rather hates it that people expect him to be. I think for a time he tried to pretend that he wasn’t _that_ Glorfindel at all, but eventually he had to own up.”

“Apart from anything else,” said Elladan, “if he wasn’t _that_ Glorfindel, then he didn’t get to tell amusing tales of his exploits in his previous life, and I think eventually he couldn’t bear having to hold his tongue any more. He’s not at all grand, but he is very much full of his heroic achievements. Not in an unpleasant way, just…he just _is_.” He chuckled. “I think he would probably get on quite well with your brother. Haldir, I mean.”

Rúmil coloured a little. “Haldir isn’t that bad. He’s just…I don’t know, he’s proud of his position and he likes to stand upon ceremony a little bit, I suppose you’d say. To show how proud he is to serve our Lady and our Lord.”

“You do know he’s only teasing, don’t you?” Elrohir said. “My dear brother does like to needle people.”

“I like nothing of the sort,” said Elladan mock-indignantly, but his eyes were dancing, and Rúmil couldn’t help but return his smile.

“By the way,” said Elrohir, “Glorfindel was only teasing, too. You are entirely safe with us, and we do not intend to get you into any trouble at all.”

“Unless you want us to,” Elladan put in, smiling a thoroughly wicked smile, and Rúmil really did blush then. He felt utterly tongue-tied, for truly the twins were more than beautiful, more than alluring, but somehow he was not sure he wished to take that step with them.

“Leave him alone, Elladan,” said Elrohir firmly. “You’re not being fair. Rúmil, you must forgive my brother. He is a terrible tease, and also a dreadful flirt.”

“I’m honoured, truly,” said Rúmil, finding his words, “but I feel…I don’t know. Disloyal, somehow.”

“To your brother,” Elrohir said, very softly, and for once Elladan did not chip in to clarify which one.

“Yes,” whispered Rúmil, staring into the fire, the admission almost too much for him, bringing the shame flooding back although it had begun to recede when the twins had told him about the ancient customs and unspoken laws which they had discovered. 

“It’s all right, Rúmil,” said Elrohir, leaning forward and covering Rúmil’s hand with his own. “With us, you need have no fear.”

Elladan placed his hand upon Rúmil’s shoulder, suddenly serious. “My brother and I are not ashamed of the love within our hearts, and you should not be ashamed of the love within yours. Orophin may not return your feelings, but you never know - he might.”

“Does he know?” asked Elrohir. 

Rúmil nodded. “I told him, before I came away here.”

Elrohir squeezed his hand. “And what did he say?”

“He - not much, actually. He didn’t take it how I expected him to.”

“And how was that?” Elladan wanted to know.

“I thought he would be disgusted. I thought he would cast me out. But he didn’t. He said he couldn’t ever cast me out, he said I’m his brother and he loves me. But - “

“But?” Elrohir prompted gently.

“But not in the way in which I love him,” Rúmil said miserably. 

“Did he actually say that? In those words?” asked Elladan urgently.

“No. But he didn’t say that he does love me in that way, and so…”

“And so you assumed,” said Elladan. “Understandable. And yet, he didn’t say it outright. Do you know what I think?”

“What?” asked Rúmil, biting his lip, his shoulders tense.

“I think that it’s just possible that you gave him something to think about, mellon-nín. He did not cast you out, he was not disgusted. It sounds to me as though you took him completely by surprise.”

“And given this time while you are away,” added Elrohir, “you may find, when you go home, that he has come around to your way of thinking.”

“Please,” whispered Rúmil, “do not give me hope. I do not think I can bear it.”

Elrohir set his cup of wine aside and slid to his knees in front of Rúmil, loosening his fingers around his cup and putting it safely out of the way on the floor. He laced his fingers with Rúmil’s and leaned in until his forehead and Rúmil’s were touching. 

“I know it seems unbearable when you do not know whether or not you have cause to hope,” he said softly. “I know how dark those nights can be. But trust me, mellon-nín, sometimes there is cause to hope after all.” 

“Sometimes you find that both of you have been thinking along the same path, not realising that they ran parallel to each other all the time,” murmured Elladan, coming to stand behind Rúmil’s chair and leaning down to slide his arms around Rúmil’s shoulders, resting his cheek upon Rúmil’s hair. “It takes courage to see if those paths will cross, but sometimes - just sometimes - they do.”

“You will have to find the courage to ask, when you return home,” Elrohir continued, almost in the same breath as Elladan’s last words, “and if it goes ill, all you need do is send us word and we will come to you. That place in our company, and at our table, will be yours. But there is a chance, however small, that it will go well. Do not fall to despair, Rúmil. There is always that chance.”

Rúmil squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden welling of tears, the twins’ tenderness almost more than he could bear. He bit his lips together against a sob, for the last thing he wanted to do was break down in front of these two perfect creatures, his de-facto commanders and unlikely new friends. He could not speak.

Long and long they sat there, the three of them breathing in unison as Rúmil struggled to bring himself under control. He had not expected this - this kindness - when he had come to Imladris. In truth he was not entirely sure what he had expected - perhaps to meet someone, perhaps to fall in love, and perhaps to return home with his heart healed; or perhaps to return home exactly as broken as he had been when he had left. He had not expected that the sons of Elrond would have found themselves in a similar situation and resolved it, and he certainly had never expected that they might take him under their wing and offer him counsel and comfort.

Eventually, Elladan was the first to move. “Well, meleth-nín, mellon-nín, I hate to disturb this beautiful moment, but I do still really need that drink. Possibly more, now, as it happens.” He straightened up, although not without stroking a hand over Rúmil’s hair, setting it back into place. 

“You have no poetry in your soul, meleth-nín,” said Elrohir, leaning up to press a chaste, gentle kiss to Rúmil’s forehead before drawing away and letting Rúmil’s hands go with one last soft squeeze of his fingers. 

“I have plenty of poetry in my soul,” said Elladan, “but just now my soul needs that Dorwinion vintage, and I would wager that Rúmil needs it even more than I do. Hand him his cup, meleth, and refill it.”

“Always so imperious, meleth-nín,” said Elrohir with an affectionate smile, but he picked up Rúmil’s cup and placed it back in his hands, reaching for the bottle and refilling it.

“Drink,” said Elladan, holding out his own cup for a refill. “In fact, I propose a toast. To hope, and to chances, and to things working out exactly as we would wish them to.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Elrohir, topping up first Elladan’s cup and then his own. “Our paths crossed, when we had been running in the same direction for so long. May yours and Orophin’s cross in as happy a manner as ours did.” He reached out and touched his cup to Rúmil’s and then to Elladan’s, and then drank deeply. 

Rúmil, for his part, blinked back the tears that still stood in his eyes and held up his cup for Elladan to mirror his twin’s movements, one soft clink and then another, and then he too drank deeply. The wine was good, by far the best he had ever tasted, and although at first he had to swallow it around the lump in his throat, the constriction soon eased, and for the first time that he could remember he began to feel, if not hopeful, then at least less despairing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> mellon-nín: my friend  
> ada: father (informal)  
> meleth-nín: my love


	11. A Bird in a Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil meets Arwen, makes a suggestion as to how she might relieve her boredom, and makes her a promise.

The next morning, Rúmil awoke in his narrow bed in his little white room, the sunlight just beginning to creep through the window. He still felt overwhelmed by the twins’ kindness, but the hope they had given him still sang in his heart, however quietly. 

The twins had offered him a bed for the night - they had two rooms but only used the one - and Rúmil had been tempted to say yes, but at the same time he had realised that he needed some time alone to clear his head after their revelations, and so he had somewhat regretfully declined. They had understood, although Elladan had made a teasing remark or two that had led Rúmil to think that if he stayed he would probably have ended up sleeping between the twins rather than in their spare bed. He would not have minded that so much - it would have been a little like being home, with his brothers - but he knew that he needed solitude, and so instead they had walked him back to the garrison and seen him into the building with identical hand-on-heart salutes, salutes which Rúmil had returned with feeling. He did not know what he had done to earn such kindness and friendship from the sons of Elrond, but he would be forever grateful for it.

He had expected to awaken with a headache, for they had worked their way down many cups of wine, but by some miracle he felt as clear-headed as if their cups had contained water. Perhaps that was the mark of truly decent wine, he thought to himself with a smile, and headed off to the washroom and then the refectory to break his fast. 

The days followed one after another, tumbling down into years, and although he missed Lothlórien as though a part of him was missing, Rúmil found himself becoming a part of life in Imladris. He went on patrol with the twins, sparred with them and the other Galadhrim in the arena, practised his archery and walked in the gardens, and he was happy - happier, indeed, than he had expected to become when he had left his home.

Sometimes he would pass an evening with the twins in their chambers, and sometimes they would drink in the refectory with the other soldiers. Very occasionally Glorfindel would join them, and would with a long-suffering air tell tales of his past life, although with Elladan on one side of him and Elrohir on the other, Rúmil benefitted from a running commentary that left him in no doubt that the former Lord of Gondolin was utterly in his element and did not resent having to tell the stories for even a second. Once or twice Master Erestor joined them, and it turned out that he played the perfect foil to Glorfindel’s tales of glory, providing commentary from the. history books - some of which, the twins murmured in Rúmil’s ears, he himself had written, having witnessed the events they narrated - and occasionally puncturing some of Glorfindel’s wilder exaggerations with cold facts, to greatly entertaining effect.

Once or twice, when in the company of the twins in the highest house, they encountered Lord Elrond, and Rúmil found him more welcoming than he had expected. They only exchanged a few words at any one time, but Lord Elrond more than once expressed his thanks to Rúmil for aiding Lady Celebrían’s and Lady Arwen’s safe passage from Lothlórien, and Rúmil each time tried to accept the compliment without deflecting it, saying that it was his honour and duty and he was pleased to be able to offer his service to the daughter of his Lady and his Lord.

And once, just once, as he was passing across one of the bridges over the ravines that cut through the Vale of Imladris, providing passage over the waterfalls, he met the Lady Arwen, walking alone above the rapids. 

At first he had made to turn back, not wishing to disturb her, but she had called him back, and he had obediently gone to her, saluting her with his hand on his heart and his head inclined. 

“You are Rúmil of the Galadhrim, are you not?” she inquired, her lovely voice soft and deep, and Rúmil dared a glance up at her face. She truly was astonishingly beautiful, as though the beauty of the twins had been distilled to form something - someone - even more perfect than them. 

“I am, my lady,” Rúmil said, and she smiled. 

“Will you walk with me for a moment, Rúmil? I would like to come to know my brothers’ new friend.” She placed her hand on Rúmil’s arm, and he crooked his elbow for her without even really knowing what he was doing. Arwen tucked her hand into his elbow and using very gentle pressure steered him across the bridge and up a few steps to a bower that looked out over the whole valley. 

Taking her hand from his elbow again, Arwen settled herself upon the bench that stood in the middle of the bower, and patted the seat next to her in an invitation to sit down. Obediently, Rúmil sat, and Arwen turned to him, taking his hands in hers. 

“My brothers have told me about you, Rúmil,” she said. “Your bravery on the patrols, and your skills in the practice arenas. I am truly thankful to have soldiers such as you in our guard when my mother and I must travel.”

Rúmil bowed his head, unsure what he should say. As with Lord Elrond, he fell back upon an expression of his happiness in his duty, and Arwen laughed, a sound like water breaking over rocks, silver bells ringing. 

“Oh, Rúmil. My brothers told me you were uncomfortable with praise for your skills. Shall I tell you a secret?”

Rúmil looked up at her at that, despite himself, despite the vague feeling that it was indecorous to look upon the granddaughter of his Lady and Lord at such close distance. Arwen laughed again. 

“My mother does not like to associate with her guards, but I think it is the very least I can do. You protect us when we are vulnerable, if it came to it you would lay down your lives for us, and so who am I to say you are unworthy of my time? You are no different to me, really, you or any of the guards. I am only who I am thanks to an accident of birth. We are all the same!” She smiled. “Only I must wear pretty dresses and be polite to Ada’s guests, while my brothers get to go out hunting Orcs and are allowed to practise in the arena and mix with the soldiers and all the other interesting people who live here. My secret, Rúmil, is that most of the time I am so very dreadfully bored.”

Rúmil blinked, trying to think what to say to that. It seemed that all of Elrond’s family could render him speechless with only a few words. “Were you not allowed to learn the ways of the sword or the bow when you were younger, my lady?” he asked after a moment, picking up on the activities of her brothers which she had mentioned.

“A little, here and there,” Arwen said. “When my Naneth was not here, for she did not - does not - approve. Do you know, I have a sword of my own, Hadhafang, which my Adar wielded at the last battle of the Second Age, but I am not allowed to use it. It once belonged to Idril, the White Lady of the Noldor, and now it belongs to me. But here we are, here _I_ am, and it lies dormant in my chambers, or in my baggage when we travel.” The frustration was clear in her voice, and although it came from a different cause from his own, Rúmil could recognise it and feel sympathy.

“Could you not practise in secret?” Rúmil found himself asking. “Could you not slip away to the arena with your brothers?”

“Perhaps,” said Arwen, “but my mother’s wrath were I to be discovered would be a sight to behold.”

“Is it not worth the risk?” Rúmil asked. “My lady, forgive me, but I know what it is like to live eternally frustrated at my own situation, and eventually…well, eventually I had to do something about it.”

“What did you do, Rúmil?” Arwen’s deep grey eyes were full of questions, but soft, no judgement within them, and Rúmil took a breath. He could not tell her everything, of course, but perhaps he could give her some form of counsel.

“I left my home, my lady. My two older brothers were eternally fussing around me, or so I thought, constantly keeping an eye on me although I was long past my majority and a soldier trained and proved. I could not live with it any longer, and so I volunteered for the border watch. And then I came here.”

Arwen nodded. “And do you feel better for it?”

“Do you know, my lady, I do. I think that I needed that time away on the border to come into my own, to prove myself to myself, and when I returned I could see that my brothers’ over-protectiveness was merely the same as the concern I felt about them every time they placed themselves in danger, only reflected back onto me. And now that I am here, I have grown further, and my heart is the quieter for it.”

“I am glad for you,” Arwen murmured. “So you counsel me to take a risk, here and there?”

“I suppose I do. My lady, I am not saying that you must train to be a warrior like your brothers in secret, for I think you would not enjoy the endless days and nights on the road with dirt in your hair and creatures barking in the darkness - in truth I do not much enjoy them myself.” He gave her a rueful smile. “But if you have a sword, and some little knowledge of how to wield it, surely to practise the wielding of it would be no bad thing?”

“It is not ladylike,” Arwen cautioned, though her voice held a laugh and her eyes were sparkling.

“You could probably cast it as such, if you were clever about it,” said Rúmil. “Sword work is not so different from dancing, after all.”

Arwen let out a peal of laughter. “Oh, Rúmil, I do believe you have it! You are right, it _is_ like dancing, especially the way we Elves practise it. Men are more brutal about such things, as I understand it, but for us it is indeed akin to a dance.”

Rúmil blushed a little at her delight; he had not meant to come up with a means for her to escape her mother’s rules, and he had the distinct feeling that if Lady Celebrían found out about his involvement he would be left considering his position as one of the Galadhrim, but at the same time, if he could help Arwen escape her own frustrations, perhaps he would be able to begin to repay the twins for their kindness towards him.

“I am sure that you already have two very capable dancing partners, my lady,” he said, “but if you should ever feel you need a third, you need only ask me. I would be honoured to assist you.”

“I thank you most sincerely, Rúmil, and if ever I have need of you I will be sure to send for you. After all, my brothers do not reside in Lothlórien, and when I am there I will need someone to practise my dancing with, will I not?” She gave him a smile as sparkling and merry as the waters of the Bruinen, and Rúmil could not help but return it. He did not understand how it was that everywhere he turned in Imladris he seemed to encounter a new friend, but he could not begin to think of complaining. No, it was nothing to complain about, but more something at which to wonder. He had come here feeling so terribly alone, but in the Valley of the Bruinen he had discovered that he was not alone after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> ada: father (informal)   
> naneth: mother (formal)  
> adar: father (formal)


	12. There May Be A Faint Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil makes the twins a promise, and returns to Lothlórien with Arwen and Celebrían.

Rúmil was sitting in the refectory after a sparring session with some of the other Galadhrim, when he became conscious of a presence behind him. Within the moment, Elladan swung his legs over the bench on one side of him, and Elrohir slid in on the other side.

“We hear you’ve been leading our sister astray,” said Elladan, and Rúmil stiffened, beginning to stammer out an apology, but before he could get more than a few words out, Elrohir elbowed him in the ribs. Turning to look at his friend he saw Elrohir roll his eyes, and he began to relax.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We think it’s marvellous, and we only wonder that we didn’t think of it ourselves. Dancing - of course, it makes perfect sense.” Elrohir nudged him again. “Rúmil, you are a genius.”

Rúmil ducked his head. “I only saw that she was so frustrated with her situation, like a songbird beating its wings against the bars of its cage. I know that feeling well, and so I wanted to try to help her escape it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to explain yourself to us,” Elladan said, clapping him on the back. “Nana is going to be furious if she ever finds out, but to be quite honest, I think it only well that Arwen should learn swordcraft and how to shoot a bow, more properly than she was able to learn as an Elfling. She travels through dangerous lands when she comes here, or goes to Lothlórien, and I would rather she know how to defend herself, should the worst happen.”

“Well, then I am glad to have been able to help,” said Rúmil. “I wish to repay the two of you for your kindness to me, so if I am able to give some aid to your sister, I will be honoured.”

“No repayment is looked for, or required,” said Elrohir. “We simply saw someone in a situation similar to that in which we once found ourselves, and we wished to help. We had to work everything out for ourselves, but if we can pass on what we have learned so that someone else does not have to, we are glad to do so.”

“What gave me away?” Rúmil found himself asking. “I thought I was so careful to hide my reasons for being here.”

“You forget that we are very perceptive,” said Elladan. “Also we have been trained to read others, so that we may serve our father as diplomats.”

“Also we have been through the same experience, or similar at least, and we know the signs,” said Elrohir. “Nobody who did not know, would have known.”

Rúmil nodded, oddly reassured that he had not, apparently, been wearing his shameful feelings upon his face the whole time he had been in Imladris. 

“Anyway,” said Elladan, “we hear that you have volunteered to be our sister’s dancing partner when she is in Lothlórien.”

Rúmil blushed a little. “I have. I supposed that she might wish for some escape when she is away from here, and if her brothers are not there to dance with her, perhaps I might dare to serve her in that way. Perhaps my own brothers may also be willing to serve, for I will not always be in Caras Galadhon. I will return to my duties in the patrols and on the borders, after all.” Rúmil did not hesitate to volunteer the services of his brothers, for he knew they would both understand the situation in which Lady Arwen found herself. Although it would mean going against the word of the Lady Celebrían, Rúmil thought that the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn would probably approve, and it was they who held the allegiance of all three brothers.

Both twins nodded sharply. “We accept your offer to stand in our stead when we are not there to watch over her,” they said in unison, and Rúmil could not help a shiver. They did not speak like that often, and he was still not used to it, so uncanny did it sound.

It also sounded somewhat as though he had just inadvertently taken an oath, but he did not mind, in truth. The Lady Arwen had been kind to him, and he did want to help her.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Not long after that day, the message came down to the Galadhrim in the garrison that the Lady Celebrían wished to return to Lothlórien within the week. Rúmil found that he had decidedly mixed feelings about the idea of returning home. On the one hand, he missed the Golden Wood and his brothers, and although he was afraid to find out if his and Orophin’s paths had indeed been running parallel and if they might cross, he was determined to have the courage to ask. And on the other hand, he was beginning to feel at home here in Imladris, and he would miss the twins when he was gone.

“Well, you could stay,” said Elladan, over a flagon of Periannath ale in the twins’ quarters, the evening before the party was due to leave. “But I think you would only be putting off the inevitable.”

“You do need to talk to your brother,” Elrohir said.

“Not Haldir,” Elladan chipped in, and Rúmil had to laugh. 

“No, not Haldir,” he said. “I know I need to talk to Orophin. I am afraid, but I find that I am no longer ashamed, and for that I must thank both of you from the bottom of my heart.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Elladan. “Take them this, it might ease the conversation between you.” Crossing the room, he fetched a bottle down from a shelf and brought it back, handing it to Rúmil. It was the fine Dorwinion vintage, Rúmil saw, and tied around the neck of the bottle were two folds of paper, sealed with identical seals, one bearing Haldir’s name and the other Orophin’s.

“A-are you sure?” Rúmil half-stammered. “This is too fine a gift, truly.”

“Nonsense,” Elladan said. “You are our friend, and you need to have a difficult conversation with your brothers. One of them, at least. It is only fair that we should provide you with some small advantage.”

“We are only glad that we could help,” continued Elrohir, over Rúmil’s attempts to thank them. “You must send us word, however it goes, so that we may either send for you, or send you our congratulations.”

“I will,” promised Rúmil. “I do not hold out much hope, but you said that there may be a faint chance and so I will hold onto that instead.”

“You do that,” Elladan said, clapping Rúmil on the back, and Rúmil could not help smiling.

“I will,” he said, and he was determined to stick to his promise.

The following morning as the party made ready to ride out of Imladris and make its way towards the Golden Wood, the twins appeared in the refectory. 

“We thought we would say our farewells here, rather than out there in front of Ada and everyone,” said Elrohir, and caught Rúmil up into a tight hug, letting him go after a moment with a kiss to the forehead. Elladan repeated his twin’s action, a tight hug and a kiss to the forehead, and then the three of them stood apart. 

“I must thank you for all you have done for me, with all my heart,” said Rúmil, and the twins smiled mirror-image smiles. 

“No need for thanks,” said Elladan. “As we said, we saw someone we could help, and we helped him, or we tried. Now it is up to you to put our assistance into practice.”

“Still, I must - “ Rúmil said, but the twins cut him off. 

“Only take courage, and speak to your brother. That will be thanks enough,” they said in unison, and Rúmil nodded.

“I will. I swear it.”

“See that you do,” said Elladan, grasping Rúmil’s shoulder in a last farewell. Elrohir gripped his other shoulder, and then they were gone, presumably to prepare for the formalities to come.

Rúmil stood with his comrades surrounding the horses which Lady Celebrían and Lady Arwen would ride on their journey, waiting for the two Ladies to make their appearance. The welcoming party from the day of their arrival now stood ready to bid them farewell; Lord Elrond looking as though he was bracing himself against an expected blow, Lord Glorfindel and Master Erestor standing slightly closer together than might be expected - Rúmil had not noticed it upon his arrival, but he certainly saw it now. The twins standing together near their father, and Lindir slightly to one side, overseeing the final preparations. And then the Ladies came into view, descending the staircase, and Rúmil had to catch his breath, so beautiful were they, Lady Celebrían in pale grey and green, and Lady Arwen in blue. They descended the stairs and said their goodbyes, some polite and some heartfelt; Lord Elrond embraced both his wife and his daughter, and the twins caught Arwen up between them, murmuring fiercely into her ears. Then they set her down and bade a far more decorous farewell to their lady mother, kissing her hand and looking for all the world as though they were swearing an oath. 

And then the twins were stepping forward, Elladan with Lady Arwen and Elrohir with Lady Celebrían, helping them into their saddles, and the two Ladies took one long last look at Imladris before they turned their horses around, the signal for the Galadhrim to perform an about-face in precise unison. Rúmil thought that both of the twins caught his eye as he turned, and he bit down upon the smile that wished to spread across his face. Protocol was everything, here. And yet, when he found himself marching alongside the Lady Arwen’s horse, he found himself glancing up at her, and saw her smiling down upon him with just a hint of the sparkle of the Bruinen in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**  
>  (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> nana: mother (informal)  
> ada: father (informal)


	13. I Know The Contents Of My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orophin does some research, makes a discovery, and reaches a conclusion. Rúmil returns home, bringing with him a gift for his brothers from the twins. And Haldir observes, and draws some conclusions of his own.

Orophin was not sure any more exactly how long it was that Rúmil had been gone. It was more than one year, more than two, the seasons had turned at least twice, maybe three times. It was not unheard-of for the Lady Celebrían to stay in Imladris for ten or twenty years at a stretch, but Orophin hoped it would not be so long this time. 

He had visited the library belonging to his Lady and his Lord, and for the first few times had wandered aimlessly among the shelves, completely lost. On his fifth visit, or thereabouts, however, he had encountered Fereveldir, one of his fellow Galadhrim, who was deep in a volume on military tactics but took pity on Orophin when he saw him wandering. 

“What are you looking for, mellon-nín?” Fereveldir had asked, and Orophin had made up some spurious reason for being on the hunt for tales of their forebears. Fereveldir had gladly shown him to the relevant section and left him to it, and Orophin had begun to work his way systematically through the shelves. 

He returned to the library whenever he was free of his duties, and gradually he came to know every tale that had been told, from the music of the Ainur and the creation of the Two Trees, through the tales of the Noldor and the war over the Silmarils, to the fall of Gondolin and on down through the Ages. But none of them held the information he was looking for, and he could not ask the librarian where else to look, or even if the information was indeed there to be found. 

When he had read every book on every shelf, or thought he had, Orophin stood for a moment perusing the shelves, looking for any volumes he might have missed. They all looked familiar, except for one, not so much a volume as a leather wrapper, and Orophin was not sure how he had missed it before, although perhaps he had not seen it as he had been looking for books, not whatever this was. Carefully he eased it out from between its companions, and laid it upon the table, loosening the ties that held it together and folding back the leather flaps to reveal a sheaf of individual pages covered in closely-written text. 

At first Orophin could not read it, but then he realised it was not written in Sindarin, his mother tongue, but Quenya, the language of the ancient Elves. Orophin had learned a little Quenya when he was younger, and although he was by no means fluent, when he looked again at the pages he thought he could more or less make out what they said. Something about the nature of love between Elves, and the history of those Elves who had loved members of the race of Men, tales of the deep love between brothers in arms such as Maedhros and Fingon, which - Orophin was not sure he was understanding it correctly, but the text seemed to imply that this love ran deeper than brotherly love, and as he read on he thought that it went on to say that true brothers might love, and true sisters, and they would not be condemned. He stopped, looked up, and went to find a dictionary. This was too important to rely on his own flawed knowledge of the ancient tongue.

By the end of the afternoon, Orophin thought he had grasped the gist of the text. His first reading had been correct. Love between siblings was permitted. There was a condition laid upon siblings, that no children must result of their union, and Orophin thought to himself that that, at least, was one thing he and Rúmil would never have to worry about.

And then he stopped, looking up from the text again in bewilderment that his thoughts had placed himself and Rúmil together in such a manner, in such a context. Was it possible that he - ?

Orophin gathered the papers back into their leather cover and tied the fastenings, glancing around him as he slipped the folder back onto the shelf. That it was here in the library where anyone could visit was surely proof enough that its subject was not as shameful a thing as Rúmil had assumed, but Orophin did not want anybody seeing him with it and inferring anything before he had had the opportunity to work out for himself what it all meant. Returning the dictionary to its place, he left the library as calmly as he could, although inwardly he felt like running as fast as he could, finding somewhere quiet and private to think.

Haldir was out on patrol, so rather than look for somewhere in the city where he might be discovered, Orophin returned home, swinging himself up from the ladder into the talan and pacing about the living area, turning it all over in his mind. He had felt no shock or disgust when Rúmil had confessed his love to him, only saddened that his youngest brother was suffering so. He had not thought that he returned Rúmil’s feelings, he had thought he simply loved his brother as brothers do, but as Rúmil’s continued absence had grown longer, Orophin had missed him more painfully each day. He had not found the courage to admit to himself before that it felt as though a piece of his soul was being tunnelled away. He did not miss Rúmil in the manner in which one missed a brother, but as one missed the person who held one’s heart in his hands. Now, at last, he thought he knew why. And the thought that perhaps in Imladris Rúmil had found someone he could love without shame sent a knife through Orophin’s heart. Especially now that he knew that there was no need for shame. It was permitted, by ancient custom of the Elves, that brother may love brother without fear. 

Finally Orophin knew the contents of his heart. But he feared that when Rúmil returned, it would be far too late and all would be lost.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Spring was just beginning to turn into summer when word came that the Ladies were returning. Orophin returned from a patrol to find Caras Galadhon all abuzz with the news, and he went to find Haldir as quickly as he could.

“They’re coming back,” he said, poking his head into Haldir’s office, where his brother was putting together some duty rota or other, as usual when he was there. “Word has it they will enter the city within the hour.” And he was off again, running down the stairs and leaving Haldir to set his papers aside and follow with a somewhat amused smile. It pleased him to see his elder brother so excited and happy at the news of Rúmil’s return, although he thought he detected an undercurrent of tension, and thought also that he could make a fairly good guess at its cause.

Haldir had been observing his brothers for many years, and he had his suspicions as to what had gone wrong between them. He had also watched Orophin during Rúmil’s latest absence, noticing his brother’s tendency to sit deep in thought and his persistent air of melancholy. Haldir had to hope that Rúmil was returning from Imladris in the same frame of mind as when he had left the Golden Wood, or he would likely have a lot more rota-shuffling on his hands in the coming days. Not to mention that he would be the one who would have to pick up the pieces of what was left of the relationship between his brothers, once they had broken each other’s hearts.

He found Orophin standing at the foot of the steps leading up to the palace of the Lady and the Lord, looking for all the world as though he wanted to shuffle impatiently from foot to foot, but was employing all of his training as a Galadhrim to stand still and impassive as he waited for the travellers to appear. Haldir went to stand beside his brother, and did his best to project an air of calm in hopes that it would help.

Eventually the sound of a Galadhrim horn came ringing jubilantly through the trees, and a glance up at the staircase told Haldir that the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn had appeared to welcome their daughter and their granddaughter home. The party soon came into view, the escort of soldiers marching in perfect unison and the Ladies upon their horses, the one as radiant as the dawn and the other as beautiful as the evening. Haldir and Orophin scanned the faces of the soldiers, looking for their youngest brother, and found him marching next to Lady Arwen’s horse. A great honour in itself, and both of them nodded in approval. 

The Ladies drew their horses to a stop in front of the great staircase, and a soldier assisted each to dismount; Rúmil was Arwen’s help and his brothers thought they spied a significant glance passing between the two of them. 

“What’s all that about?” murmured Haldir, and Orophin stiffened by his side. 

“Please do not say he has fallen in love with the Lady Arwen,” he whispered, half to himself, and Haldir laid a hand on his arm.

“Well, if he has we are certainly in for an interesting time,” he said, keeping his tone as light as he could. “We will have to ask him, over dinner.”

Orophin nodded, but the sudden misery in his eyes made Haldir hope against hope that they had misread the situation. 

The Ladies ascended the staircase, and Lady Galadriel dismissed their escort; they stood to attention, saluted, and then broke ranks. Rúmil glanced around and, spotting his brothers, came striding over to greet them. 

“Gwenyr-nín! It is good to see you,” he cried. “I have missed you!” He wrapped them both up in a hug that left no room for sideways glances or looks exchanged, but Haldir and Orophin both noted how much he had changed. He was confident, happy even, and whatever it was that had happened in Imladris, thought Haldir, it appeared to have mended what was broken inside him. Whether that meant that he and Orophin would now also be mended, or would soon be broken beyond repair, only time would tell.

“I have to visit the bath house, for the road was long and dusty and I sorely need to wash,” said Rúmil, “but I will see you at home in an hour. I have a gift for you both.” Rummaging in his knapsack, he pulled out a very fine-looking bottle of wine and handed it to Haldir, whose eyebrows went up almost to his hairline.

“This looks like - “

“Dorwinion,” said Rúmil with a merry smile. “Very fine. I’ll tell you all about it later.” And he was gone in a flurry of silver hair, leaving his brothers looking at each other in bewilderment. It seemed their youngest had a good few tales to tell of his time away. 

Turning the bottle over in his hands, Haldir realised that there were two notes tied to its neck, one bearing Orophin’s name and the other his, sealed with identical black wax seals, the motif two Es intertwined. Showing Orophin, he carefully untied the string affixing them to the bottle and handed Orophin the note bearing his name, carefully cracking the seal on the one marked ‘Haldir’.

“He brings honour to the Galadhrim. Be proud of him,” it read, and it was signed by another pair of interlocking Es. Haldir’s eyebrows went up again. Rúmil certainly did have tales to tell, and a certain amount of explaining to do. Glancing at Orophin, he saw his oldest brother turn his note over in his hands, break the seal and unfold it. Haldir could not see what it said, but the warmth that crept across Orophin’s face made him think that perhaps it had brought him hope. Now all they had to do was to go home, and to wait for Rúmil to come to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**  
>  (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> gwenyr-nín: my brothers
> 
> (this chapter takes me over 200,000 words posted to the Archive! *confetti everywhere*)


	14. Time To Meet My Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil discovers that the twins have sent him home with a gift for himself, too, and satisfies his brothers’ curiosity as to what he has been doing with Elrond’s children. Haldir makes himself scarce, and leaves Orophin and Rúmil on the edge of a cliff, metaphorically speaking.

In the bath house, Rúmil splashed some water on his face, and then opened his knapsack, pulling out his clean clothes to hang them up while he took his bath, so that the steam could do what it could for the creases. As he did so, he noticed something gleaming in the bottom of the bag, and he reached in for it, puzzled; he had not packed anything shiny. Opening his hand, he saw that he held a small bottle, made of beautifully cut glass in the style of the decorations in the highest house of Imladris. It contained a golden liquid, and as Rúmil tipped the bottle he could see that it was thick and viscous, clinging to the glass as it moved. There was a fold of paper tied to the bottle’s neck, sealed with the seal of the twins, and when he broke it open he saw that it contained just two short sentences, but what they said was enough to make him blush almost scarlet.

“Just in case,” it said. “Be happy.” The signature was two Es twined together, and beneath his embarrassment Rúmil felt a rush of deep affection and gratitude for the twins, and their many kindnesses towards him. They must have slipped the bottle into his bag while he was not looking, as they said their farewells.

Tucking the bottle away back at the bottom of his knapsack, Rúmil sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the Valar that he was alone, and another of supplication, that the twins might be right and he might not have to put the little bottle away out of sight and never use its contents. Slipping out of his road-dusty clothes he lowered himself into the warm bath and closed his eyes, just for a moment. He did not wish to take too long, for he wanted to see his brothers again properly as soon as possible, but at the same time he felt as though he wanted to put off talking to Orophin for as long as he could. Elladan’s voice came to him, gently mocking, pointing out that he was only putting off the inevitable, and Rúmil had to own that he was right. But still, he was afraid. He had chosen to present himself as being as outgoing and confident as he could, when he had greeted his brothers, but it was only a mask, and beneath it he felt very apprehensive.

But there was no use dwelling on what might or might not happen. He had to summon up the courage to find out the course of Orophin’s path, and first, he had to have dinner with both of his brothers and tell them of his adventures at the Last Homely House. And the quicker he got it all over with the better, he couldn’t help thinking. 

Washing himself quickly, and rinsing the worst of the dust out of his hair, he pulled himself out of the bath and dried himself off, pressing the water out of his hair with a towel and pulling on his clean clothes. He ran a comb through his hair so that it lay straight and flat down his back and then braided the sides out of the way, just a simple arrangement to keep his hair out of his eyes. He stuffed his dirty clothes into his knapsack, and then slung it over his shoulder. It was time to go and meet his fate.

Climbing up into the talan he shared with his brothers, he was met with two curious stares from the armchairs by the window, and Haldir demanding, “Stow your pack in your room, gwanûr-nín, and then come and tell us what on Arda you have been doing with Lord Elrond’s children!”

Rúmil could not help laughing at Haldir’s tone, half indignant and half wild with curiosity, and he flashed his brothers a grin as he made for his room. He left the knapsack on the floor, but before he rejoined his brothers he brought out the little bottle and removed the note, tucking them both together in the cabinet beside his bed. Just in case, the twins’ note had said, and if the occasion did arise to use the contents, he thought he probably would not want to be tangling with the note before he could remove the stopper.

Moving back into the main room, he took a seat at the table, which Haldir and Orophin had evidently hurriedly laid with a simple meal of bread, cheese and salad. 

“Had we known you were returning today, gwanur-nín, we could have planned for a feast befitting a celebration, but as it is, you’ll have to make do with this,” said Haldir somewhat reproachfully, and Rúmil smiled. 

“I’m sorry, Haldir,” he said, “but I had no opportunity to send word, and besides, I wanted to surprise you.” And, he added silently to himself, he had wanted to give Orophin the least possible opportunity to make himself scarce.

“You’ve done more than surprise us,” Haldir replied, coming to take his seat at the table, followed a moment behind by Orophin, who was looking oddly hesitant. “What was all that about, with the Lady Arwen, when you helped her dismount her horse? And why have you brought us a bottle of the finest wine in Middle-Earth with personal notes to us from the sons of Elrond? What have you been getting up to?”

Rúmil could not help smiling as he reached for some bread and a piece of cheese. “Lord Elrond’s sons took a liking to me, while I was in Imladris. I joined their patrol, and from there we became friends. They have been most kind to me, and have proved the truest of companions. As for Lady Arwen, she has befriended me too, and I have made her a promise.” Glancing at Orophin, he saw his eldest brother’s face fall, and he hastened to explain. “No, nothing like that, for the Lady Celebrían would never permit it, and besides, my heart remains set upon another.” He hoped that his choice of words would give Orophin reassurance, if that were what he sought, until he could get him alone and explain properly. “I have simply promised that, should she ever need to escape her mother’s rules and protocols, I will continue the practice in swordcraft which her brothers have already begun with her.”

“You have promised _what_?” demanded Haldir, and Rúmil laughed. 

“We spoke of her frustration and boredom, that she is not permitted the pastimes her brothers enjoy, and she told me that she has a sword of her own, but not the practice to wield it. I wanted to help her, for I understand too well what it is to be frustrated with one’s situation.”

“What on earth were you thinking?” Orophin wanted to know, apparently stunned out of his hesitance. “The Lady Celebrían will have your head if she finds out.”

“As far as the Lady Celebrían is concerned, the Lady Arwen is practising her dancing,” said Rúmil. “Swordcraft is not all that different from dancing, really, if you think about it. She has been working with her brothers in secret for a little while, and now that she is here in Lothlórien, I have promised her that she may work with me. And, if I am away, that one or other of you will gladly take my place.”

Haldir and Orophin both burst out with protests, but Rúmil stilled them, raising his hand for silence. “Do not worry, gwenyr-nín. The rules that bind Lady Arwen are Lady Celebrían’s. I do not think that Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn would agree that the Lady Arwen should not learn to defend herself, should the worst ever happen on her journeys between Lothlórien and Imladris. Her brothers wish her to be as safe as she can be. And in the end, even Lady Celebrían must submit to the will of her parents.”

His two brothers stared at him in disbelief. Haldir was the first to break the silence, shaking his head in amusement and wonder. “Your time away really has changed you, Rúmil,” he said. “I hardly know you, so bold have you become.”

“I am still myself,” said Rúmil. “I suppose I have simply learned who that person truly is.”

“So did you find what you were looking for, in Imladris?” asked Orophin, tension clear to be heard in his voice, and Rúmil smiled. 

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose. Although not in the way I had expected to find it. No, let me put it another way. I did not find what I was looking for, but as it turned out, I was looking for the wrong thing, and I found something else which worked far better.” He caught and held Orophin’s gaze for a moment, hoping that his meaning might be conveyed and that his message would not go amiss. They would speak later, when they were alone. Rúmil was still afraid, but every glance he stole at Orophin, every one of his reactions, made him hope he was not reading them incorrectly. 

They ate their dinner and Rúmil told tales of some of his adventures, and then Haldir fetched the bottle of Dorwinion wine. The notes were gone from its neck, and Rúmil wondered what his brothers had read in them. 

“I can think of no more suitable occasion to open this most generous gift than tonight,” said Haldir, unsealing the bottle and filling three cups. “No point saving it for a special occasion, for who knows when that might come? Let us drink a toast to Rúmil’s return, which is special occasion enough, and let’s hope he plans to stay a little longer than a week this time!” He replaced the stopper in the bottle, and raised his cup.

The three of them brought their cups together and then drank, and Rúmil felt a smile spread across his face as his brothers tasted the wine. The length of his stay would depend on how the rest of this evening went, but for now he was content to enjoy this moment.

“Valar above, Rúmil, the sons of Elrond must love you if they have given you this wine for us,” said Orophin after a moment, and Rúmil shook his head. 

“Their love is given elsewhere,” he said, thinking he could probably say that much. He had never quite managed to work out just how secret the twins’ true relationship was, but he reasoned that it was not his to tell in any case. “But they are my friends, now. I think you’d like them, although Haldir of course has met them before.”

“Only briefly,” Haldir said, “across a skirmish with a band of Orcs. We didn’t exactly have the chance for a proper conversation.”

Rúmil decided not to tell Haldir of the impression he had left upon the twins; it was something his middle brother probably did not need to know just at this moment. 

“Well, they are fine warriors, but also very learned. And most of all, they know how to have fun,” he said. “They would often come down to the garrison’s refectory to drink with the soldiers.”

“Is it true that they are so alike that it is impossible to tell them apart?” asked Orophin. 

“It is,” said Rúmil. “I am still not sure which one is which until they have begun to speak, for though they are very slightly different in manner, to look at, it is as though you look upon the same Elf twice over. And they are very beautiful, almost as lovely as their sister.”

“You didn’t - did you?” asked Haldir, sounding as though the question had surprised him even as he asked it. 

Rúmil laughed. “No, I did not. With either of them, or both. Elladan in particular likes to flirt, but I resisted their charms. Truth be told, I am a little afraid of them. I think they would eat me alive.”

“And you’re not - your ‘dancing lessons’ with the Lady Arwen are truly not a cover for something else?” Orophin enquired, that strange tension there in his voice again.

“Only for practice in swordcraft, I promise. I am sure that the Lady is meant for someone far higher born than me, and in any case, beautiful as she is, she does not turn my head. She is simply a friend who has been kind to me, and I wish to repay her kindness, and that of her brothers, in whatever small way I can.”

His brothers seemed satisfied with his answers, and for a while they sat in silence, savouring the wine, each of them lost in his own thoughts.

Eventually Haldir drained his cup and set it down on the table, pushing his chair back and standing. “Well, gwenyr-nín, much as I hate to leave you with the rest of this truly excellent wine, Dínendal is in Caras Galadhon and I had promised him I would go to him tonight. I will see you both tomorrow.”

When he had gone, Rúmil and Orophin looked at each other in silence. The moment of reckoning had arrived, and it seemed that neither of them was quite able to play the first hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**  
>  (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> gwanûr-nín: my brother  
> gwenyr-nín: my brothers  
> 
> 
> I couldn’t resist the Mysterious Bottle of Oil trope, it was such a fixture in the fics I loved in this fandom way back when, and it looks like the twins couldn’t resist it either. :D


	15. Whether Our Paths Might Cross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orophin and Rúmil find that their paths have been running parallel after all, and come to an understanding between themselves.

Orophin found he could not quite look away from Rúmil. The full moon had risen and the silver light came streaming between the leaves and through the window to where Rúmil sat full in its path, showering him in fragments of silver light. Orophin’s heart was in his mouth at the sight of him, so still and silent and so breathtakingly beautiful, an exquisite creature of moonlight and mithril who was Orophin’s youngest brother and yet someone else entirely. Orophin knew then that his heart was lost for certain, and he could only hope that, changed as he was by his time away from home, Rúmil’s heart still longed for his, for he did not think that he could stand to lose him.

Eventually, Orophin made himself look away, reaching for his cup and taking a sip of wine, hoping it might give him the courage to say what he needed to say. “Rúmil,” he began, hesitantly, “you said that you did not find what you were looking for in Imladris, but you found something else you needed more, instead. Will - will you tell me what it was?”

Rúmil did not answer straight away, and Orophin was on the verge of changing the subject to something completely innocuous, so nervous was he, but then Rúmil drew in a deep breath and spoke.

“Counsel,” he said, “and comfort. Courage too, in the end, although I find that now it is failing me.” He smiled ruefully. 

“I found counsel too,” Orophin said softly. “Although I had to look hard to find it. It made me see things more clearly, and it helped me to understand.” He breathed in and out, once, twice, steeling his nerves. “Rúmil, I have missed you so much while you have been away. I have felt as though a piece of myself has been missing.”

Rúmil leaned forward, his wine apparently forgotten. “What are you saying, Orophin?”

“I am afraid,” whispered Orophin. “I fear that your heart has changed in your time away. I am afraid that you no longer want me.”

Rúmil closed his eyes, a pained expression flickering across his face, and then opened them again, fixing Orophin with a steady grey-green gaze. "Be clear with me, and honest, gwanûr-nín, because if you are jesting with me I will have your heart on the end of my blade. I have had more uncertainty than my heart can stand."

Orophin flinched despite himself. Did Rúmil really think that he would joke about something as important as this, in a moment as filled with significance as this one was? But at the same time, his reaction gave Orophin hope, leaping clear and warm in his heart. “I am not jesting, Rúmil. I swear to you.” He had to choose his words carefully, make sure that every one was exactly right. “You made me think very hard about how I feel for you. Since you left I have been thinking about it every day, turning it over in my mind, and missing you, and wondering why I had never noticed these feelings before. I sought counsel in the books in the library, and I found a text which made everything become clear before my eyes.” He paused, thinking a moment. “The text made it clear, but it was you who woke me up, Rúmil. I woke up and suddenly I didn't think of you as just my little brother any more.” He paused, gathering all his courage. “I - Rúmil, I would be your lover. If you would still have me."

“Truly?” Rúmil’s voice was just a whisper, but it held such depths of emotion that Orophin felt tears spring to his eyes. He blinked them back, willing them away, for he had not wept since long before his majority, and he did not want to start now, when there was no call for tears, only joy.

“Truly.” Orophin stood from his chair, moving round the table until he was standing in front of Rúmil. Taking his brother’s hands he gently pulled him to his feet. “By the mellyrn above our heads and the good earth beneath our feet, I love you, Rúmil. And forgive me, but I want so much to kiss you.” His voice had dropped to a whisper by the end, and hearing Rúmil’s soft gasp of wonder, he leaned in and gently, softly touched his lips to Rúmil’s, a fleeting kiss, almost chaste, but followed by another still gentle, still tentative, but not so brief. Rúmil wound his arms around Orophin, his hands sliding up Orophin’s back, and Orophin pulled him closer still, cradling the back of his head in his hand, stroking Rúmil’s hair as his lips parted against the soft, insistent pressure of Rúmil’s mouth. He felt joy dart through him as he felt the tip of Rúmil’s tongue touching to his, and it was as though his blood was filled of a sudden with summer lightning. 

Orophin’s eyes fluttered closed; he felt as though he was falling, his brother’s slender frame and strong arms the only things anchoring him to the earth. 

He found himself wondering after a moment where on Arda his little brother had learned to kiss like this. He was not naïve; he knew that Rúmil was not innocent. He had taken lovers before, as had Orophin, but he had never formed a lasting relationship with any of them, had never found a reason to stay; Orophin knew this with absolute certainty, for he never had either. The thought occurred to him that it seemed they both were fated to find the truest of loves in each other's arms.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
They stood long and long in the middle of the room, for just as they managed to tear themselves away from each other, they seemed inexorably drawn back in, hypnotised by each other's eyes, the touch of soft lips and tongues and the dizzying feeling of joy between them. Yet eventually they became too light-headed to stand any longer, and Rúmil let Orophin draw him over to the armchair by the window and pull him down into his lap. Rúmil curled against him, instantly comfortable, and Orophin began to stroke his hair, soothing away all the shame, all the guilt. 

“What counsel did you receive in Imladris?” Orophin asked him eventually, his voice soft and warm, and Rúmil smiled. 

“The sons of Elrond are wise and learned indeed. They told me of ancient customs and practices among our people, that sister may love sister and brother may love brother, without need for shame or condemnation.” He shifted a little in his brother’s embrace, turning to press a soft kiss to the side of Orophin’s neck. “I do not truly know how it was that they knew I needed to hear of this custom, but I think they had once had cause to seek the knowledge out for themselves.”

“They are - like us?” Orophin sounded unsure, as though he was trying the words out. 

“I shouldn’t say, for it is not my secret to tell, but yes, I believe that they are. I do not think they would mind you knowing, for their knowledge has helped us greatly, and they offered it to us freely, with the intention of helping.”

Orophin let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You remember I said I sought counsel in the books in the library? I discovered the same knowledge, although it did not come as easily to me as I imagine it did to them. I am no scholar, and the text was written in Quenya.” He laughed again. “But I did my best, with the dictionary, and if what you say is true then I did not miss the mark with my understanding.”

Rúmil leaned in for a kiss, utterly charmed that his brother had cared so much that he had spent what sounded like many a day in the library, not at all his natural environment, seeking out the knowledge that the feelings he now knew they shared were not wrong, not shameful. He slid his hand into Orophin’s hair, letting it slip through his fingers like moonlit silver silk, and kissed him again, drawing in a gasp of surprised pleasure as he felt Orophin’s fingers stroking up the edge of his ear, up to the tip and back down again. 

“I love you so much,” Orophin whispered after a moment, in the snatch of breath between one kiss and the next. “I did not know it was possible to feel this much love for someone. I have never felt this way before.”

“Then let me show you that it is possible,” murmured Rúmil, “for I have loved you for so long I do not remember what it is like not to love you.” He paused for another kiss, and then continued. “I almost cannot believe that I am here, in your arms, and that you really, truly love me as I love you. I am afraid that I will wake up and find that I have been dreaming.”

“This is no dream, I promise. Unless I am dreaming too.” Orophin stroked his ear again, listening for Rúmil’s sigh of pleasure before he continued. “I am only sorry that I did not realise it long ago. I could have saved you so many years of despair.”

“All is as the Valar will it,” said Rúmil softly. “I have come to realise that now. They would not have suffered me to feel this love for you if it were truly wrong. The twins showed me that, and that gave me the courage to put aside my shame and hope that you would come to feel the same way.”

“Of all people to set you on the right path,” said Orophin, “for it to be the sons of Elrond. I would never have guessed that this would be the help you would find in Imladris.”

“Nor would I,” Rúmil said. “They said that it was just possible that you had come to think along a parallel path to mine, and that if I only had the courage to ask, I would see whether those paths might cross. And now they have, and I am happier than I thought it possible to be.”

“I am glad that you found such wise counsellors and comforters,” murmured Orophin, pressing a kiss to Rúmil’s temple. “And I owe them my thanks and a great deal more, for they have sent you home to me with your heart healed.”

“Not healed, only ready to heal,” Rúmil said, tilting his head a little to catch Orophin’s lips. “The true work of healing was yours. Your hands, your lips, your words - they have smoothed away all the despair.” Pulling away a little, he could not quite help the yawn that escaped him, and he gave Orophin a contrite smile. “I am sorry. I have had a very long and strenuous few days. I would love to stay here with you all night, but I find I have a powerful need for sleep.”

Orophin smiled. “No need to apologise. Let us go and sleep, and then in the morning we can continue, if you like.”

“I would like nothing more,” said Rúmil, leaning up again for another kiss. “But for now, will we go to your room, or to mine?”

“I do not mind,” said Orophin. “Wherever you are, I will be happy there too.”

Rúmil had to swallow hard at that against the sudden weight of tears in his throat. “Yours, then,” he said after a moment, a little shakily. “Mine hasn’t been slept in in who knows how long. It’ll need airing out.”

“We have tried to keep the dust from gathering,” Orophin said, “so that it would be ready for you whenever you returned. But I will happily bring you to my bed…meleth-nín.” He pronounced the endearment carefully, as though tasting the words for the first time, and Rúmil smiled and kissed him again. 

“Meleth-nín. Yes,” he whispered against Orophin’s lips. “But if you keep saying things like that I’ll just have to kiss you again, and then we’ll never get out of this chair.”

Orophin laughed, a little breathlessly. “All right. Come on, then.” He made to stand up, and Rúmil uncurled himself and got to his feet, grasping Orophin’s hands and pulling him up. Another kiss was the almost inevitable result, but after a moment or two they pulled apart and Orophin led Rúmil by the hand into his bedroom. 

Rúmil had to smile when he saw the sleeping trousers folded neatly on Orophin’s pillow; he himself usually slept without a stitch of clothing, but he knew his brother had a preference for the loose, soft garment. A glance passed between them - would they step any further into the new way of things tonight? - and they both shook their heads very slightly, now was not the time. 

“One step at a time,” murmured Rúmil. “It’s a lot to get used to,” and Orophin nodded, picking up the trousers from his pillow.

“It is. Would you like a pair?”

Rúmil decided that it would probably be a good idea if he did. “Yes please,” he said with a slightly rueful smile, and Orophin fetched another pair out of the wardrobe. They changed out of their daytime clothes in silence, occasionally breaking off to touch, once or twice to kiss, almost reverently, and when they were both clad only in a pair of sleeping trousers apiece, Orophin pulled back the bedcovers and Rúmil slid beneath them, taking Orophin by the hand and pulling him in after him. They curled together, arms about each other, foreheads touching, and slowly, contentedly, they drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> gwanûr-nín: my brother  
> meleth-nín: my love


	16. A Most Fascinating New Book To Read

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By means of the author’s attempt at metaphor, Rúmil and Orophin discover and come to terms with each other’s battle scars.

Rúmil awoke to the sound of rain on the leaves outside his bedroom window, and for a moment he was not sure where he was. All he knew was a sense of deep happiness, and as he stretched and turned over he realised that he was not alone. It took a moment for the memory to fall into place, but then he realised, and a smile spread across his face. _Orophin_. He stretched again, and then curled up on his side, facing his sleeping brother - his sleeping beloved. For a moment he just stared, drinking in every detail, from the soft silver-gold hair that fell across Orophin’s face, relaxed in sleep, the tension he always carried as part of the responsibilities he had given himself as the oldest brother smoothed clean away; down over his shoulder, his arm, his chest, to the coverlet at his waist and then the curve of his hip and his legs under the covers. He almost did not dare touch, in case it turned out to be a dream, in case Orophin dissolved under his fingertips. 

Glancing around he realised that he was not in his bed, or his room, but in Orophin’s, and a little more of the events of the previous evening began to come back to him. Confessions on both sides, tentative kisses and touches, and a closeness the like of which he had never felt before. He almost could not believe that everything had turned out so well. He would have to send word to the twins. But - not just now. There would be time enough for messages and glad tidings later.

Gathering his courage, he reached out and very carefully brushed Orophin’s hair out of his face, grazing his finger against the very tip of his brother’s ear and shivering at the soft hum that came from Orophin’s closed lips at the touch. Moving on, he trailed his finger down Orophin’s neck, across his collarbone, pausing to trace back and forth over the scar just below it, legacy of an Orcish blade on patrol a good hundred years earlier, over the round of his shoulder and down his arm, over the fine tracery of scars from sword-cuts in training and minor wounds received in battle, down his side to his hip and back up, around to his back and up over his shoulder-blade, though his hand stilled as he felt something he was not expecting, a taut, puckered patch of skin at the top of Orophin’s back, between his shoulder-blade and the base of his neck. This was new. He had thought he knew every scar upon Orophin’s body, since he had seen him unclothed about the talan and in the guard rooms and the bath house. But this one he did not know, and he was almost afraid to raise himself up so that he could look.

“What’s the matter, meleth-nín?” came Orophin’s soft voice, and Rúmil jumped, startled. 

“I am sorry, meleth, I did not mean to wake you,” he murmured. “I was just…when did you get this scar? What happened?” He could not keep the anxiety out of his voice, at the thought that Orophin had sustained this injury, which did not feel at all minor although he still hadn’t looked at it, and he had not known about it.

Orophin turned his head a little, just enough to glance at Rúmil’s hand at the top of his back. “I was out on patrol, I think it was while you were on border watch. An Orc got a lucky blow in, but do not worry, I made him pay for it.”

Rúmil raised himself up on one elbow so that he could lean over and take a look at the scar. It was worse than it felt, the skin puckered and gnarled, with irregular stitch-marks around the edge. “It looks bad,” he said, unable to keep a tremor from his voice. It looked as though it had gone very deep indeed, but he could not quite say it.

“It wasn’t pleasant,” Orophin said, reaching up to cradle Rúmil’s face in his hand. “It had to be stitched in the field, and Anendel made a bit of a mess of it. But it healed, it scarred over and now I hardly feel it.”

“But I did not know about it,” said Rúmil, and he lowered himself back down to lie beside Orophin, blinking hard. “You were so sorely wounded, while I was away, and I did not know.”

“You were away, meleth,” Orophin said, pressing a kiss to Rúmil’s forehead. “Besides, you had more than enough to occupy you, without worrying about what I was getting up to on patrol.”

“But - “ said Rúmil, and Orophin tilted his chin up and kissed his mouth, firmly cutting him off. 

“It happened, meleth, but it did not kill me, or even really harm me. It healed, and I am here, now, with you. You know how these things are. You know we all bear scars from our battles with Sauron’s creatures. They are a sign that we were victorious, and that we endure.” Orophin kissed him again, and then drew back a little, smiling. “Now, no more regrets, no more sadness. I believe we have absolutely nothing to do today, absolutely nowhere to be, except here, together. What do you think you would like to do?”

Rúmil pulled himself together; Orophin was right. There was nothing to be gained from fretting about what might have happened while they were apart. He took a deep breath and let go of his distress over Orophin’s scar, let the joy flood back in instead. “I think I will do some reading,” he said, trailing his fingers down Orophin’s arm again. “I find I have the most fascinating new book open before me, and I wish to discover all it contains.”

“Do you know, I think that sounds like a wonderful idea,” Orophin said with a smile. “I have recently discovered something of a love for book-learning, after all.”

“So you have,” said Rúmil, raising himself up on his elbow again. “First, I must close this most distressing chapter - “ he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the scar on Orophin’s back, “ - and then I shall read on.” Nudging Orophin to lie on his back, he trailed his hands down over Orophin’s chest, feeling the muscle and strength beneath the skin and letting it reassure him. He knew that Orophin was as accomplished a warrior as he himself was, after all. 

Moving on, he traced across the flat plane of Orophin’s stomach, down as far as the coverlet and the waistband of his trousers. He paused, wondering whether to venture further, but then thought better of it. Time enough for that later. They did, after all, have all the time in the world, now that they had come to an understanding between them. Instead he drew Orophin into a hug, holding him close against him and smoothing his hand up and down his brother’s spine. 

“I can hardly believe this is real,” he murmured. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up and find myself back at the borders, or Imladris, or here before I left, and none of this will have happened.”

“You’re not dreaming, meleth-nín,” said Orophin softly. “I promise you, this is real. I will still be here the next time you awaken, and the time after that, and the time after that, away off into eternity.”

“I feel as though it’s too enormous to comprehend, that I have you here after so long. It’s all I ever wanted, but I can’t quite understand that it’s true.”

“I will help you,” said Orophin. “However long it takes, I will show you. This, here, between us, this is the only truth I will live by, now.”

“Thank you, meleth-nín,” said Rúmil, burying his face in Orophin’s hair and pressing a kiss behind his ear. After a moment, though, a thought occurred to him and he pulled away very slightly, just enough to speak. “What was in the note the twins wrote to you?”

Orophin shifted beneath him, and Rúmil raised his head so that he could look into his face. “It said, ‘He is a rare prize. Cherish him,’ and that is exactly what I plan to do.” 

Rúmil blinked; was there truly no end to the twins’ kindness where he was concerned?

“I don’t know what you did to endear yourself to them so,” said Orophin after a moment, amusement in his voice, “but whatever it was, I am glad you did it. I am glad you had such steadfast companions.”

“As am I,” said Rúmil when he had regained his composure. “I don’t know what I did, either, but they have been so kind to me. I hope that one day you might meet them.”

“I wish that too,” said Orophin. “I would thank them for sending you back to me. But for now, if you have done your reading, meleth, I would do mine.” He smiled darkly, a smile that Rúmil had never seen on his lips before, a smile that made him shiver, and rolled over, flipping Rúmil onto his back and kneeling above him, beginning to trail his hands over Rúmil’s skin. His touch was soft despite the calluses on his hands from long hours of archery practice, and Rúmil had to swallow hard against the tears in his throat again. How he had ever been so lucky as to be lying here with his heart’s desire kneeling over him, he did not know, but he would thank the Valar for the rest of his days for bringing Orophin to him at last.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Orophin smoothed his hands over Rúmil’s chest, detouring to curl his fingers around each arm, fingers discovering every inch of his skin. They fluttered over little scars, some of which Orophin knew had been there since before Rúmil’s majority; he had always been so assiduous at his combat lessons, so keen to do well for his brothers, and that had inevitably led to injuries more often than not. But the thin white lines were not flaws; they did not mar Rúmil’s beauty, rather they enhanced it. At the top of his left arm was a slightly deeper scar, a raised line that was the result of a skirmish with a band of Orcs on one of his first patrols; Orophin remembered that day well, how fiercely Rúmil had fought and how steadfastly he had bitten his lip against the pain as Haldir had bound up his wound.

Orophin let his hand drift onwards, tracing the contours of the muscles beneath the skin, strong from centuries of swordcraft and archery. Not for the first time Orophin thought that his youngest brother was truly one of the finest of the Galadhrim. Another scar, just over his right wrist-bone, legacy of a knife-match with Haldir, refereed by Orophin, in which a knife slipped by accident; Rúmil had not even passed his majority then, but still he did not cry, holding his pain inside even as Haldir and Orophin fussed over him. 

Orophin lifted Rúmil’s wrist to his lips, laying a kiss over the scar, and then moved on, his fingers pausing for a moment over a long, thin line that curved around Rúmil’s ribcage almost from the centre, disappearing around the curve of his side towards his back. This one he did not remember, and he gave Rúmil a questioning glance. 

“That one?” Rúmil said, glancing down to where his brother’s hand had stilled. “Orc blade, years ago while you were off on another patrol or something. I don’t remember where you were. It wasn’t all that bad, just a scratch, really, but it did leave quite the scar.”

“That it did,” breathed Orophin, quietly impressed even as he bit down upon the same distress that Rúmil had clearly felt earlier when he had discovered the stab wound on Orophin’s upper back.

“Actually, there’s one I probably shouldn’t leave you to discover on your own,” Rúmil said after a moment, and he wriggled under Orophin, pulling himself a little further up on the bed. “But Orophin, you mustn't fuss. They healed, remember, even this one. I'm fine now, and each one of them taught me something else about survival, just as all of yours did. I'll show you, but you have to promise you won't fret. Here…” He eased the waistband of his trousers down a little to reveal a scar much nastier than the thin line across his ribs. It began at the side of his flat stomach, curved down and around his hipbone and tailed off across his thigh. It was not smooth, and it looked more recent than the others.

"How did you get this one?" Orophin asked, smothering the flare of panic that wanted to tear through him, how did this happen, why had he not known about it?

Rúmil shrugged. "Orc sword, a month or so after Dínendal and I got to the borders. It got in low and caught me one before I could get it. I had its head for it, don't you worry, and Dínendal stitched me up as soon as we'd kicked the rest of the filthy creatures out of the Wood. He's talented, that one. It healed quickly, but then it didn't go as deep as it looks."

“Well, it looks pretty horrible,” Orophin said, and Rúmil grinned. 

“Like that one on your back. As you said to me, they happened, they healed, I barely even notice them any more.” Reaching up, he drew Orophin down to him for a kiss, long and languid and reassuring. “I am not going anywhere, meleth-nín, and neither are you. We will live out our long lives here in the Golden Wood, and then we will sail West together and live in the Undying Lands with our forebears. I promise you.”

“I promise you, too,” murmured Orophin against his lips. “So, do you have any more scars I should know about?”

“Just a scratch or two on my legs,” Rúmil smiled. “What about you?”

“The same, really. There’s a fairly unpleasant one on my left thigh, but that was three hundred or so years ago, and it’s long faded. Other than that, just scratches.”

“Good,” said Rúmil, and he wrapped his arms around Orophin’s back, pinning him down to lie on top of him. “I will never let you go again, meleth, and any Orc that wishes to hurt you will have to deal with me first.”

“The same goes for you,” said Orophin with an amused little laugh. “Any Orc that wants to get to you will have to go through me. Perhaps we shall have to learn to fight back to back.”

“The twins could probably teach us,” Rúmil said, “for they are masters of the art. But I find that just now I do not wish to think of them. I would far rather think of you, meleth, and of how we have this whole day ahead of us to do nothing at all except make up for the time we have lost.” He leaned up for a kiss, and Orophin closed his eyes, giving himself over to the moment, and the bliss of the new way of things between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> meleth-nín: my love  
> meleth: love


	17. Forget Your Pain And Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haldir has seen right through both his brothers, and is delighted for them, though a little concerned. Rúmil attempts to ease Orophin's guilt that he could not open his heart earlier, and he and Orophin continue their metaphor.

Haldir did not return home until that evening, reasoning that his brothers would probably need a good long time to work out whatever was going on between them, and if either of them needed him, they could come and find him. Besides, he had rather enjoyed being able to spend a long night and late morning with Dínendal in his lover’s talan, eventually repairing to his office when the sun was almost at her zenith.

Neither brother came to call upon him, and by the time the evening was beginning to draw in he thought he could perhaps dare to hope that they had reached an understanding. He had his suspicions, and he was not entirely sure what to think about them, but his first priority was his brothers’ happiness; it always had been. 

He was careful to make slightly more noise ascending the ladder into the talan than he would ordinarily have done, and his sharp ears picked up a slight scuffling noise as he reached the top rungs, just before he poked his head into the living area. His brothers were sitting in the armchairs either side of the window, Orophin on the left and Rúmil on the right, but both of them looked ever so slightly rumpled and they each bore a most uncharacteristic flush painting their high cheekbones pink. Haldir hid a smile; so his suspicions had been correct, and moreover, his brothers had clearly reached a most agreeable solution.

“Maer’aduial, gwenyr-nín,” he said cheerily. “Have you eaten, or will we dine together?”

There was a brief silence, and Haldir observed the somewhat panicked looks that passed between Orophin and Rúmil, before Orophin managed to inform him that no, they had not eaten yet, and yes, dining together would be a fine idea. He bit back his amusement for now, until he had a chance to truly gauge the situation, and went to the cupboards to fetch out some food, plates and cups. 

Soon all three of them were sitting around the table, and Orophin and Rúmil appeared to have regained their composure, although he observed them exchanging many fleeting glances when they thought he wasn’t looking at them. 

Haldir uncorked the bottle of Dorwinion wine that was still sitting on the tabletop - evidently his brothers had had better things to do than to carry on drinking last night after he had left them alone - and filled all three cups. 

“It seems to me that we have another special occasion to celebrate,” he said, the amusement he felt beginning to colour his voice. Orophin and Rúmil shot him identical looks, part guilty, part horrified, part - well, the rest was pure, unfettered joy. Haldir looked from one to the other and could not help breaking into laughter. “Oh, gwenyr-nín, your faces! If you have resolved your differences in a way that makes both of you happy, then I am delighted for you.”

Rúmil and Orophin exchanged another glance. “But,” said Rúmil, “you are not - well, you are not disgusted? You do not wish to cast us out?” 

Haldir’s heart cracked, just a little bit, at the uncertainty in his younger brother’s voice. “Oh, gwanûr-nín, of course I am not and of course I don’t. I do not pretend to understand, but I will keep your secret and I will keep you safe. I am just glad that you have found a way to be happy, the two of you.” 

“Thank you, Haldir,” said Orophin, very seriously, and Rúmil got out of his chair and came around the table to fling his arms around Haldir in a hug tighter than any they had shared since they were both Elflings. 

“Yes, thank you, Haldir, so much,” Rúmil said, his voice somewhat muffled in Haldir’s hair. “Although,” he said, straightening up again and returning to his seat, “actually it’s not completely unheard of, and although most people don’t know it, we are not transgressing against the laws of our forebears. So we will have to be careful, but the twins say that the Lady and the Lord will remember, and they will not cast us out.”

“The twins?” Haldir said, one eyebrow quirked upwards. “A little informal, don’t you think, gwanûr-nín?”

Rúmil shrugged, unconcerned. “I believe they are my friends. Besides, they specifically told me not to call them ‘my lords’.“

“Did they really?” Haldir smiled. “You have indeed been moving in exalted company, gwanûr-nín. And I am glad for you, but truly, you - we - will have to be careful. The Lady and the Lord may remember, but most will not understand.”

He watched as his brothers exchanged a glance, sadness settling over their features, and felt like a cur for puncturing their happiness, although he knew the importance of making them understand the possible consequences their actions might bring, were they discovered by other members of the Galadhrim.

“We know,” said Rúmil after a moment, more serious than Haldir had ever heard him. “We will guard ourselves in public, but Haldir, I will not feel shame for this. I have spent centuries ashamed and miserable for the contents of my heart, and now I have found that there is no cause for shame, I refuse to feel it for even a moment more.” He cast Haldir a bold, defiant look across the table, and Haldir nodded.

“Truly, you are the bravest of us all,” he said. “I cannot imagine the fortitude it must have required of you, to carry this burden alone for so long.”

Orophin flinched at Haldir’s words, and Rúmil leaned forward to grasp his hand. “It was no burden,” he said fiercely. “It was simply my Valar-appointed lot in life. I bore it because I knew no other way. And now I find that it was all worth it, every single moment. I would not change it, for who knows if it would have gone as well as this at any other moment?”

Haldir watched as Orophin turned his gaze from the table to Rúmil’s face, watched him read the determination and fierce love radiating from their youngest brother, and the slow melting away of Orophin’s tension and misery, replaced by an expression of such adoration that Haldir felt his heart constrict in his chest. They might have a hard road ahead of them, but this was clearly no whim, on either part. His brothers meant it, they truly loved each other, and he knew that there was nothing else he could do but support them in whichever way they needed.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Later, Rúmil and Orophin retreated to Rúmil’s room, and Rúmil pushed the window wide open to let in the evening air. Their conversation with Haldir had turned to happier matters, but he knew that Orophin was still brooding over all that had been said, for it was clear in his beloved’s eyes. 

Turning to Orophin, he wrapped his arms around him and drew him in close, resting his forehead against Orophin’s. “All is well, meleth-nín,” he murmured. “We must be realistic, and we must be careful, but what we are doing is not wrong, and I will have you feel no shame for it.”

“I know,” said Orophin after a moment, his voice soft and heavy with pain, “but it is one thing to know it and another to practise it. I would have the world know that I am happy, and the cause of my joy, but instead I must hide it away as though it is the darkest of secrets. I am not ashamed, but it hurts me to know that our comrades would think us transgressors.”

“It is what it is, meleth,” said Rúmil, “and it is ours to bear. But we need not hide from Haldir, and that will make things so much easier. Our love is nobody’s business but ours, after all.”

“This is true,” said Orophin, and tilted his head to press a kiss to Rúmil’s lips, but the air of sadness did not lift from him, and after a moment Rúmil pulled back just enough that he could look him in the face. Sure enough, the misery was still written there, plain to see.

“What is it?” he asked, and Orophin closed his eyes, turned his face away just a little. 

“I am only sorry that it took me so long to see it,” he said. “That I drove you away because I could not open my heart to you sooner. I caused you so much pain, Rúmil. I cannot bear to think of it.” His composure wavered, and before it could break, Rúmil pulled him close, resting one hand on the back of his head and bringing it down to rest upon his shoulder.

“Do not think of it,” he said fiercely. “As I said to Haldir, if we had reached this point before we were both truly ready for it, what is to say it might not all have gone wrong? We might have spent a night or two together and then one or other of us might have been overwhelmed with shame and turned the other out. We could never have overcome such a blow.” Stroking Orophin’s hair, he pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “No, all has gone exactly as it was meant to. We are both ready - I am grown into myself, and you have come to understand your own heart - and we will progress as slowly as we need to. There is no point rushing into anything and endangering this new way of things between us. We must be careful on all fronts, and we must take our time, but I want you to forget your pain and guilt as I have forgotten mine. Let your joy and your love supplant them. We are together, and all is well.”

They stood together for a while, as Rúmil felt Orophin’s breathing slowly steady and calm, and then he guided them both to the bed. Sitting down beside each other, they exchanged a glance as they realised that this was Rúmil’s room, and there were no soft, loose sleeping trousers to wear here.

“We can keep our leggings on, if you wish,” Rúmil murmured, amusement colouring his tone, and Orophin smiled. 

“I am happy not to, if you are,” he said. “After all, we did each only read half of our books today.”

Rúmil chuckled. “We did, at that. I think we should confine ourselves to reading, for now, but if that meets with your approval I am happy too.”

“You have become very wise, Rúmil,” Orophin said with a smile as he unbuttoned the fastening of Rúmil’s tunic and lifted it over his head. “Where did you learn such wisdom?”

“I think it has been hard-won over a long time,” Rúmil said, returning the favour. “Although I would like nothing more than to spend this whole night learning what brings you the most pleasure, I think the risks of moving too fast outweigh the benefits, especially when what is at stake is so very precious to me. I want you most dreadfully, but I think we must begin at the beginning of the book and not skip straight to the end.”

Orophin nodded, and leaned in for a kiss. “I think you are right. Who knows what wonders await in the middle chapters, that we might miss? I would read them all, and the ending will be the sweeter for it.” He kissed Rúmil again, and then stood, moving around to the other side of the bed. “And now I will finish disrobing over here, otherwise I might be too tempted to rush ahead.”

Rúmil laughed as he wriggled out of his leggings and slid underneath the covers. The sheets were clean and smelled of fresh air, and he had to wonder whether his brothers had been making up his bed when they had seen to their own all the time he had been away, just in case he should return home unexpectedly.

“A good idea indeed,” he said, lifting the covers for Orophin but averting his gaze as his brother got into bed. “That temptation is already strong, there is no need to feed it unnecessarily.”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Orophin, drawing him close, and Rúmil shuddered as he felt his brother’s soft skin all along the length of his body, no fabric between them this time. He was going to have to call upon all his reserves of self-discipline, but he was determined to be strong. It would be all the sweeter for the wait, as Orophin had said, and he was too afraid of ruining everything by rushing headlong to give in to the temptation to hurry events along - for now, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**  
>  (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> maer'aduial: good evening  
> gwenyr-nín: my brothers  
> gwanûr-nín: my brother  
> meleth-nín: my love


	18. A Dance of Blades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arwen requests a dancing lesson, and Rúmil and Orophin are still feeling their way with each other by means of metaphor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are of course not obligatory, but every single one absolutely makes my day, so if you enjoy this story and leave one or the other (or both!), you will be making me very happy indeed. <3

The days and weeks passed, as Rúmil and Orophin gradually became accustomed to the new way of things between them. Each day brought with it new discoveries, new pages in this book they were very slowly reading together. 

Rúmil found he was almost reluctant to move to the final chapters, though he dearly wanted to. It seemed almost too much, and the more he thought about it, the more he realised that he was afraid. Orophin loved him, or he said he did, and he was showing no signs of regretting his decision, but Rúmil had to acknowledge that he was terribly afraid that if they were to take those final steps together, Orophin would come to regret it, the simple enormity of their actions reminding him of the perception that they were wrong to feel this way.

He did not doubt Orophin’s feelings, but he also knew that while he had had centuries to become accustomed to them, for Orophin they were still new and unfamiliar. What if he came to see things clearly and realise that this was not truly what he wanted, what if it were to be that final act of love between them that would bring Orophin to a full realisation of what they had done? Rúmil knew that he could not bear it, if Orophin were to reject him now.

So he stalled, and he put it off, though he sorely wanted to be able to overcome his fear before Orophin realised how afraid he was, or worse, began to think that he had changed his mind.

Respite came early one morning, when a knock came on the underside of the floor of the talan the brothers shared. Haldir was eating his breakfast in the living area, and he was the one to answer. Hearing what the young Elfling on the ladder had to say, he called through to Rúmil. 

“Messenger for you, Rúmil, gwanûr-nín. And for Elbereth’s sake, come out of there with clothes on.”

Rúmil rolled out of Orophin’s embrace and got out of bed, pulling on the leggings and tunic he had been wearing the day before, and inwardly cursing Haldir’s sense of humour. 

“What makes you think I would not be dressed, gwanûr-nín?” he called back as he stepped through Orophin’s bedroom door, carefully closing it again behind him. 

“Only that you are never dressed when you sleep, and nobody needs to see that,” Haldir retorted as Rúmil entered the room, noticing straight away the young She-Elf standing just at the edge of the ladder-hole, staring at the floor and shuffling her feet, twisting a lock of her coppery hair around her fingers and clearly intensely embarrassed. She was not one of the Galadhrim’s apprentices, but was clad in robes such as those worn by the Elves who attended upon the Lady and the Lord and their family.

“Shut up, Haldir,” Rúmil said. “Please forgive my brother, pen-neth. I am afraid that his long service as a soldier has rendered him somewhat crude. Did you have a message for me?”

“If you are Rúmil of the Galadhrim, sir, then yes, I do,” said the little elleth, still staring quite intently at the floor. “The Lady Arwen would practise her dancing, and she asks that you might help her, as you offered so kindly when you were in Imladris. And she asks, sir, that you bring your brothers with you, if they are free of duty upon this day.”

Rúmil cast a look at Haldir, whose eyebrows were thoroughly raised. After a moment, Haldir nodded and shrugged; clearly whatever he had to do today could wait, in the face of a request from the Lady Galadriel’s granddaughter. A glance in the direction of Orophin’s bedroom door and an amused twist of Haldir’s lips told Rúmil that his brother absolutely had not missed which room he had emerged from, and Rúmil rolled his eyes, now was not the time for humorous jests about _that_.

“We would be honoured,” Rúmil said after a moment. “Please tell your Lady that if she would meet us in an hour at the back of the tree where the Galadhrim have their headquarters, we know a place perfectly suited to her purposes.”

The little elleth glanced up at that, blushing furiously. “I will tell her, sir. Thank you, sir.” She bobbed a curtsey, and then was gone, hurrying down the ladder as fast as she possibly could.

“Haldir,” said Rúmil sternly, “you embarrassed that poor girl. That was not fair.” Haldir shrugged, and Rúmil leaned over to cuff him around the head. “Tease Orophin and me all you like, but not at the expense of the dignity of an Elfling. Now, I must ready myself, and so must you.”

“You’ll need to get Orophin out of bed first,” said Haldir with a sly grin. “From what I have observed these last days and weeks, you will need more than an hour for that, unless you can guard yourself most steadfastly against distractions.”

“Shut _up_ , Haldir,” Rúmil said, firmly. “We will be no time at all, you will see.” Turning on his heel, he went back into Orophin’s bedroom, where he found his beloved leaning up on one elbow, pushing his hair out of his eyes and blinking sleepily.

“What was all that about?” asked Orophin, and Rúmil grinned. 

“Messenger from Lady Arwen. She would practise her dancing today, and she wants me to bring you two along.”

“Really?” Orophin sat up, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Really,” said Rúmil. “I said we would meet her in an hour, meleth-nín, so you will have to get up and get dressed.”

“And try to remember how we used to act,” Orophin said. “We have barely left the talan since we - well, we have not encountered anyone else, and for the first person we have to pretend for to be the Lady Arwen…” He trailed off, looking panicked, and Rúmil laughed.

“We can do this, meleth. We can be careful, and in truth I think the Lady Arwen would understand, in any case.”

“Do you think she knows about her brothers?” Orophin asked, getting out of bed and reaching for his leggings. 

“I have no idea,” said Rúmil, crossing the room and taking up a brush to tidy Orophin’s hair once his tunic was settled over his head. “But she is most gracious and most kind, and I do not think she would betray any confidences we might place in her keeping, either deliberately or by accident.”

“I hope so,” said Orophin, reaching up to cover Rúmil’s hand where it lay upon his shoulder. “She would not cast us out?”

“I do not believe that she would,” said Rúmil, turning his hand over and wrapping his fingers around Orophin’s, squeezing them gently. “But we should be careful, all the same. It will be good practice for us, for when we must go out and train and patrol again.” Letting Orophin’s fingers go, he drew the brush gently through his brother’s silken hair, easing out the knots that had formed in the night, rebraiding the warriors’ braids that would keep Orophin’s hair out of his eyes when they ‘danced’ with Lady Arwen. If he was a little nervous, for he had in truth only ever spoken once with the Lady, he would not show it. 

An hour later saw the three brothers, identically attired in the grey-green uniform of the Galadhrim, standing behind the tree that held their regiment’s headquarters. A hooded figure approached them, and Rúmil saw the Lady Arwen’s grey eyes and sparkling smile beneath the hood. Saluting, he stepped forward to greet her.

“Mae govannen, my Lady. May I present to you my brothers Orophin and Haldir?”

“I am most honoured to meet you, Orophin and Haldir of the Galadhrim,” she said, placing her hand upon her heart and bowing her head in an exact imitation of the Galadhrim’s salute. The brothers mirrored her actions, and murmured their honour softly, for none of them wanted to draw attention to themselves.

“My lady, there is a place we can practise where nobody will overlook us or discover what dances you are truly learning,” he said, offering her his elbow and Arwen nodded. 

“Lead on, mellon-nín,” she said, and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow as she walked alongside him. 

Rúmil led the little party out of the city, away to a deserted clearing some way to the west. It was wide and flat, perfect for dancing - or, indeed, for swordcraft, and nobody would discover them here. 

Arwen pushed back her hood, looking around, and then nodded, unfastening her cloak and dropping it to the ground where she stood, revealing a simple tunic and leggings not that dissimilar to those the three brothers were wearing, her hair pinned up in a cluster of braids at the back of her head - and her sword Hadhafang at her belt. “You have found the perfect place, mellon-nín,” she said warmly. 

“I hope so, my lady,” Rúmil said, and Arwen laughed. 

“Please, call me by my name,” she said. “All three of you. I would feel among friends, here. Now, my brothers have refreshed my memory of the movements I learned when I was but a little Elfling, and we have practised them a little, but I still need to repeat them many times before they are as ingrained in my being as they are in theirs - or yours. May we begin, you and me, Rúmil, and then perhaps your brothers may join in once I have found my feet again. It has been some little while since I have had chance to practise the moves of this dance.” She drew Hadhafang and held it upright in front of her, her movements smooth but a little hesitant.

Rúmil saluted her and drew his own sword. “How do you begin, with your brothers?” he asked.

“With one, or the other. We would go through the movements, and then we would spar a little. Then whichever of them was watching would join in, and we would spar one against the other against the other.” She smiled brightly at Haldir and Orophin. “Now I have three sparring partners, which seems like it might be even more fun.”

Rúmil glanced at his brothers, hiding a smile at the thunderstruck expressions on their faces; they had clearly reckoned without the strength of the Lady Arwen’s charm.

“Very well, my lady - Arwen, I mean,” he said, and began the series of movements that had been drilled into him as an Elfling. Arwen followed along and repeated the series twice, three times, before they both came to a stop with their swords held upright in front of their faces again. 

“How was that?” Rúmil asked, and Arwen smiled.

“Wonderful,” she said. “You perform the movements slightly differently to my brothers, but I like that. It will give me something to surprise them with, when I go back to Imladris again. One more time, and then will you spar with me?”

Rúmil nodded, inwardly a little worried about the thought of sparring with Lady Galadriel’s granddaughter, for what on earth would he say to the Lady if Arwen were to be injured? But he put his fears aside as they ran through the movements one more time and then began, slowly, to spar. As Arwen found her feet, they began to increase in pace, from slash to parry to stab to deflection, and Rúmil found that he was enjoying himself - and Arwen’s smile was bright and fierce as she fought against him. 

Eventually Rúmil held up his hand for a breather, and Arwen pulled a disappointed face as they both returned to their starting position again, swords upright, to a smattering of applause from Haldir and Orophin, who were lounging at the edge of the clearing.

“I was just beginning to enjoy myself,” she said. 

“I could see that,” said Rúmil, “but I need a drink of water, and I’d wager you do too, if you think about it.” He turned to Haldir and Orophin, and Orophin threw him a water-skin, flashing him a secret smile at the same time, while Arwen was distracted by putting up her sword. 

Rúmil returned the smile, under Haldir’s watchful gaze, and passed the water-skin to Arwen. “Ladies first,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“Pish,” she said, “treat me like you would any one of your fellows. As I said before, we are friends, and I would have no special treatment from you. From any of you.” She directed this last at Haldir and Orophin. “Now, I have sparred with one, and I know how to spar with two. Let’s see how I do with three!” Setting the water-skin aside, she drew Hadhafang again, and Orophin and Haldir leapt to their feet, each drawing their blades. They had fought two-against-one in their training, but three-against-one seemed a little unfair, especially when they were so much more experienced than their opponent. They exchanged a glance, and then Haldir stepped forward to make a suggestion.

“I think this is more suited to a dance of blades,” he said. “You remember, gwenyr-nín. It wasn’t something we practised many times, but I think we can still remember how to do it. It’s fairly simple,” he said to Arwen, “you simply work through the movements as you just did with Rúmil, but at the end of each set you do them so that your blades meet, and then you change partners. And with each change you build up speed, and you all see how fast you can go without missing a move.”

“Are you sure?” Rúmil asked. “It can get somewhat dangerous.”

“Don’t you dare worry about me,” said Arwen firmly. “I trust that you will not injure me, and I will do my best not to injure any of you in return.”

“Very well,” said Rúmil, “Haldir, will you begin?”

They moved into position, each at one corner of a square, and bowed inwards towards the middle of the square, Arwen following the brothers’ movements. Then Haldir turned to Arwen, and Rúmil to Orophin, and the dance began. A set of the movements, a set with the silver-bright clash of blades, and then a change of partners, Rúmil with Haldir and Orophin with Arwen, and on and on it went, around and around, faster and faster until by some unspoken consensus they broke apart, all falling back upon the soft grass with peals of laughter.

“Truly,” said Arwen, when she had caught her breath, “I have never had such fun in all my life. Would one of you be so kind as to pass me the water-skin?”

Rúmil looked around and, seeing that he was nearest, reached out to grasp it and then pitched it across to Arwen, who reached up and caught it neatly.

“Truly, Arwen,” Orophin said a little shyly, “you are very skilled, and your reflexes are enviable. You would make a fine warrior, my lady.”

“If only,” Arwen laughed. “My Naneth would have fifty fits. Although I think my grandmother might approve.”

“Well, she is our chief commanding officer,” said Haldir, “and we have plenty of ellith in our ranks. And I for one would welcome you in one of my patrols, were it possible for you to join us.”

“Thank you,” said Arwen, hand on heart and head inclined. “It truly means the world to me to hear you say that. If things were otherwise I would gladly join you, but as it is - well. I am able to defend myself, and that I suppose is all I can expect. I have other duties which I must fulfil.”

“I think you would be deadly, if ever the worst should happen and you were to see combat,” said Orophin, a little more confident with her now.

“If it ever should come to it, I hope that I am,” said Arwen. “I know the Orcs are more than dangerous, and I do not think it fair to put my fate and that of my mother in the hands of the Galadhrim without being able to offer some assistance of my own. I may not ever be able to serve as a warrior, but I would at least like to be able to hold a warrior’s skills in reserve, against the occasion when I might need them.” She passed the water-skin to Rúmil, who drank from it and passed it on to Orophin. 

“Well, we will be pleased to practise with you whenever you wish while you are in the Golden Wood,” said Rúmil, “although you might have to make do with fewer of us, depending upon rotas and patrols and suchlike. Which all depend upon Haldir, so perhaps if you send word to him first, he might be able to arrange things so that as many of us as possible are able to be present.”

“Very well, I shall. Captain Haldir, I shall always be grateful for your assistance - and Orophin and Rúmil too. I hope we may all call ourselves friends for life, for I have found your company most agreeable. Even my brothers would struggle to be better dancing partners.”

“I do hope you’re going to tell them that,” said Rúmil, “although I would greatly appreciate the opportunity to be present when you do so.”

Arwen laughed. “I promise, I will do my best to bring them to Lórien, and then we may have a great reunion, with a great deal of wine and many tall tales. Although for tall tales you really need my father’s friend Glorfindel, and Master Erestor to keep a rein on his wilder exaggerations.”

“I have heard a few of Lord Glorfindel’s tales, in the refectory at Imladris,” said Rúmil, “and they are truly worth hearing. And I must say that Master Erestor’s additions only add to the telling.”

“You must hear them,” Arwen said to Orophin and Haldir. “I will do my best to arrange it. I am sure if I were to send word to my father he would be able to find some reason to bring his household here for a season.”

They sat for a while longer upon the grass, passing the water-skin between them, until Arwen looked up and noticed that the sun was almost at its zenith. 

“I should probably return,” she said, getting to her feet and casting about for her cloak, “for there is only so long I can be away before my mother begins to suspect that I am not practising my dancing. Besides, I have some very important needlework to be doing.” She smiled brightly. “But I have had the most wonderful time with you all this morning, and I will make arrangements for us to meet again as soon as I can.”

All three brothers scrambled to their feet as she rose, Orophin finding that he was closest to her cloak and picking it up, holding it out so that she could step into it. 

“I thank you all,” said Arwen, again saluting them with her hand on her heart, “and I will leave you here, for I know the way back to my grandparents’ palace now, and the less people have to gossip about, the better.”

Rúmil and his brothers saluted her in return, and watched her leave, giving her a few minutes before they followed, making for home.

“You did not tell us how fierce she is,” said Orophin, and Rúmil chuckled.

“In truth I did not know it until today. She is determined, that I knew, and wishes to escape the strictures her mother places upon her, but I had no idea she was such an accomplished swordswoman, nor how fierce she is.”

“I would have her in my patrol in a heartbeat, were she able to join us,” declared Haldir. “I’d take her over either of you, for starters.”

“Good luck with that,” said Orophin, a laugh in his voice. “You would have to do battle with the Lady Celebrían, and you would lose.”

“Horribly,” said Rúmil. “So you’ll have to make do with us, instead.”

They bickered good-naturedly all the way back to their talan, and after a snatched lunch, Haldir announced that he had to go and see to his duties.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he admonished them with a smile as he descended the ladder, and Rúmil and Orophin just laughed. 

“We never would,” said Rúmil, and Haldir rolled his eyes and dropped out of sight, leaving the two of them alone at the dining table, the afternoon stretching out before them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**  
>  (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> gwanûr-nín: my brother  
> pen-neth: little one (literally 'young one')  
> elleth: female Elf / ellith: female Elves  
> meleth-nín: my love  
> mae govannen: well met; greetings  
> mellon-nín: my friend  
> gwenyr-nín: my brothers  
> naneth: mother (formal)


	19. You Are My Heart's Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil and Orophin make a visit to the bath house, and Rúmil confesses his fears. Things get a little heated, and the metaphor gets an extended workout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are of course not obligatory, but every single one absolutely makes my day, so if you enjoy this story and leave one or the other (or both!), you will be making me very happy indeed and I thank you in advance from the bottom of my tired little heart. <3

“What shall we do this afternoon, meleth-nín?” Rúmil asked after Haldir had left for his duties, leaving him alone with Orophin.

“Well,” said Orophin. “Neither of us has anything we must do, for you are still resting after your time away, and I inexplicably seem to have no patrols to carry out. Might I suggest a trip to the bath house, to begin with, and then we can see what we want to do.”

Rúmil smiled. The bath house sounded like a marvellous idea, after their exertions in the clearing, and perhaps…well. He did not like to speculate, or to assume, but at the same time the thought of Orophin, naked, in the water, made him shiver with anticipation.

As luck would have it, the bath house was almost deserted when they reached it, and nobody saw them letting themselves into the same private room and barring the door after them. They would have to be quiet, Rúmil knew, but this was another chapter closer to the end of the book…after which there would be another book to open, if the Valar still smiled upon him, and then another and another, away off until the end of time.

Some of the Galadhrim liked to use the communal baths, a hot pool and a warm pool and then a cold plunge at the end, but Rúmil had always preferred the private rooms, with their small, warm pools and constant flow of water. Usually, of course, he was alone, but now he was especially grateful for the privacy, as he turned away from barring the door and walked straight into Orophin’s arms.

“Let me kiss you first, meleth,” murmured Orophin, “for you were so beautiful this morning, so deadly, it was all I could do to remember to breathe. How I never noticed it before, I will never know.”

Rúmil closed his eyes, letting Orophin draw him close and feeling the gentle brush of his lips, sliding one hand up Orophin’s back and curling the other around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer in for a deeper kiss, feeling his blood ignite at the slide of Orophin’s tongue against his. He did not draw away until he was utterly breathless, gasping softly and arching against Orophin with a soft, helpless cry. 

“I think we should bathe, meleth-nín,” he whispered, fingers unbuttoning Orophin’s tunic and sliding it over his head, then skittering down to the fastenings of Orophin’s leggings, undoing them and pushing them down almost tentatively, careful not to touch too definitely, fearful of what might ensue if he did.

Orophin bit his lip against a gasp of his own, moving to lift Rúmil’s tunic away and undo his leggings, easing them down over his hips, and it was all Rúmil could do not to cry out at the gentle touches, almost unbearable now. He stepped out of his leggings, kicking them off his feet, and pulled away to get into the water, trying to cover up his state of mind, although he thought that Orophin need only look at him to know. He submerged himself under the warm water, trying to pull himself together, and surfaced again just as Orophin was lowering himself into the pool, the look upon his beautiful face as tense as Rúmil felt.

They soaked in silence for a while, sitting next to each other, and Rúmil entwined the fingers of his left hand with those of Orophin’s right, breathing as deeply and evenly as he was able. His resolve was very close to breaking, and he was so very afraid.

“Are you all right, meleth?” Orophin murmured eventually, and Rúmil nodded, resting his head upon Orophin’s shoulder. 

“I am so happy, Orophin,” he whispered. “You make me so happy. But - “ and he closed his mouth with a snap, biting off the words that he had not meant to begin speaking. 

“But - what?” asked Orophin, his voice suddenly taut with concern, and Rúmil sighed.

“But I am afraid. I am afraid that when we do finally cross that last border between us, when we read that last chapter and truly become lovers, the enormity of what we have done will come between us and drive you away from me. Nothing will ever be the same after we take each other as lovers, and I am afraid that will be too much for you to bear. And I know we are edging ever closer to the end of the book, and I am so afraid that it will be the end of us, too.”

Orophin was silent for a moment, although he loosed his fingers from Rúmil’s and instead wrapped his arms around him, drawing him close. Rúmil curled around him, turning to rest his legs over Orophin’s lap and bury his head in Orophin’s neck, suddenly unable to look at his brother’s beautiful face.

“Meleth-nín,” Orophin said eventually, “nothing could ever drive you away from me, or me from you. I know what we are doing, and I fully understand the consequences. I know I have had less time to accustom myself to these feelings than you have, but I would have you know that you are my heart’s desire and I will love nobody else in all of my long life. I swear it to you. I will be by your side for ever.”

Rúmil swallowed hard, and then pulled away just enough that he could look into Orophin’s eyes. “Truly?” he asked, hating the unsteadiness in his voice but unable to banish it entirely.

“Truly,” said Orophin. “I would bind myself to you. You are all I want, and all I will ever want.”

“You would…” Rúmil trailed off, and his eyes filled with tears before he could blink them away. “You really mean that?”

“I really mean it,” Orophin said. “I may have only recently discovered the contents of my heart but they are no less true for having lain hidden so long. I would bind myself to you, and I do not care how long it takes before you feel ready to turn the page to that last chapter. It will not be the end of us, I swear, for there will be another book to open after it - or more accurately, I suppose, we will discover that it is not the last chapter at all, not the end of the book but only the end of the prologue.” He tilted Rúmil’s chin up with one finger and kissed him soundly, and Rúmil felt the last of his fears slipping away. Without breaking the kiss, he shifted so that he was kneeling astride Orophin’s lap, and slid his fingers into Orophin’s hair, cradling the back of his head as he very carefully rolled his hips forwards under the water.

Orophin let out a low moan and kissed him harder, running one hand up Rúmil’s spine and the other down to the small of his back, holding Rúmil against him, and Rúmil shuddered, echoing him softly. 

“Ai, Orophin,” he murmured against his beloved’s lips, “I do want you so terribly badly.”

Orophin answered with a shudder of his own, another low moan, before he was finally able to speak. “I want you so much, meleth-nín. But…ai!…not here. Not here. I would do this in my own bed - or in yours. The first time, at least.” And he smiled a truly wicked smile against Rúmil’s lips, and that was almost Rúmil’s undoing. 

“Ai! I am…I am going to climb off your lap now, meleth-nín, or we will find ourselves turning that page here and now.” One last fierce kiss, and then he made himself rise up on his knees and turn so that he was sitting beside Orophin again, breathing heavily. “I think I may need the cold plunge pool,” he said with a rueful laugh, and was gratified to hear Orophin’s answering laugh, just as breathless as his own. 

“Go, meleth,” Orophin said. “I will tidy our things away in here, and then I will join you. Well,” he laughed again, “perhaps not quite like that, but I could also do with a cold dip before we go home, I think.”

Rúmil sat for a moment, getting his breathing under control, and then stood up, climbing out of the pool and reaching for a towel to wrap around his waist. “I will see you in a moment,” he said, and then he unbarred the door and slipped through it, glancing around to ensure he was unobserved as he pulled the door shut again behind him.

He made straight for the cold pool - never mind the hot pool or the warm one, what he needed at this moment was to cool off - and was pleased to see that although there were a few people, mostly Galadhrim, using the communal baths, none were in the cold pool. He certainly did not need anyone remarking upon the state he was in, especially not if anybody had indeed noticed him emerging from the room Orophin would be vacating in a few moments, in a similar state to himself.

Turning his back upon the room, he dropped his towel and lowered himself into the pool, hissing at the cold but immediately grateful for its relieving effects. Now he felt almost as though he could bear the short walk home with Orophin at his side, close by but unable to touch.

Orophin’s words had reassured him greatly, although he could not help still being afraid that his brother might somehow come to his senses. Time alone would heal that hurt, he supposed; all he needed was to prove to himself by experience that Orophin loved him and would not forsake him.

Just as he was beginning to shiver from the cold, Orophin appeared in the doorway, a flush across his cheekbones, a towel around his waist and a bundle of clothes in his arms. He glanced around, scanning the room, and then made his way across to the cold pool, evidently relieved that Rúmil was its only occupant. Rúmil smiled at him, and hauled himself out of the pool. Time for him to dry off and get dressed, while Orophin cooled himself. 

Orophin dumped the clothes on the bench that ran along the wall, dropped his towel and lowered himself into the pool with a soft howl of discomfort, although he followed it with a long sigh as the cold water brought him relief from his overwrought state.

“People are going to start thinking that we are a little strange,” Rúmil observed quietly as he pulled his leggings on, “since we are likely to be all but inseparable from now on.” Orophin looked alarmed, but Rúmil shook his head. “It’s all right. Everyone thinks the twins are very odd, because of their closeness, but it deflects attention from what they really are to each other. People stop at the oddness, and never think about what it might really mean.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Orophin under his breath. “For all you say that the Lady and the Lord would understand, I do not think I could bear being cast out by our fellows.”

“Don’t worry,” Rúmil said. “We’ll be careful, and it’ll get easier with practice. But for now, I think we should go home.” He dropped his voice to a whisper and leaned down so that only Orophin would be able to hear him. “I wish to take you to my bed, meleth-nín.” He could not hide his satisfied smile at the shudder that convulsed Orophin’s body, even though he still sat submerged in the cold water.

Pulling away, Rúmil slipped his tunic back over his head and buttoned it up, holding out Orophin’s towel so that his brother could dry himself off and put on his clothes. The cold pool had calmed him for now, but he found he wanted to get back home as quickly as they could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008)
> 
> meleth-nín: my love  
> meleth: love
> 
> The rating will go up in the next chapter!


	20. I Have Never Been So Sure Of Anything In My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orophin and Rúmil take the final, most important steps together at last and find that they are not approaching the end of the book - only the end of the prologue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change for this chapter!
> 
> Kudos and comments are of course not obligatory, but every single one absolutely makes my day, so if you enjoy this story and leave one or the other (or both!), you will be making me very happy indeed and I thank you in advance from the bottom of my tired little heart. <3

Ascending the ladder, Rúmil paused at the top, listening - although Haldir knew about him and Orophin, he really did not want his middle brother present in the talan at this moment. But all was silent, and he leapt from the top of the ladder, turning to grasp Orophin’s hand as he climbed up. Rúmil led Orophin to his own room, for all that they had woken in Orophin’s that morning, knowing that he was almost certainly going to need the twins’ gift, which was still sitting in the cupboard beside his bed.

They closed the door behind them, and then stood uncertain in the middle of the floor for a moment, the heat they had felt between them in the bath house still there, but feeling suddenly a little overawed by the enormity of the moment. 

Eventually Orophin reached out to lift Rúmil’s tunic over his head, and Rúmil hastened to repay the favour. The ice was broken, and Rúmil leaned forward to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the scar beneath Orophin’s collarbone, tracing the length of it with his tongue and then slowly moving around him, laying kisses first upon the scars upon Orophin’s arms, then the stab wound at the top of his back, open-mouthed here again and tracing the contours of the scar with the very tip of his tongue. Orophin shuddered and gasped but stayed standing very still as Rúmil continued, a kiss for every scar and a few more besides, the flick of his tongue across one nipple and then the other, and then he moved lower, sinking to his knees as he undid the ties of Orophin’s leggings and smoothed them down and away. He pressed a kiss to the scar upon Orophin’s thigh and darted his tongue against it, then moved onwards, downwards, every last scratch and scar until he was laying a playful kiss on the top of each of Orophin’s feet. Standing up again, he nudged Orophin to lie down upon the bed, then wriggled out of his own leggings and lay down next to him, propped up on one elbow, just looking down at his beloved for a moment. Orophin was so beautiful he could barely breathe. The fine bones of his face, his soft green eyes, his silken hair that shone golden in the sunlight and silver by the light of the moon, his smooth skin and taut muscles and all the things that, together with his kind heart and loving soul and his steadfast loyalty, made up Orophin of the Galadhrim; Rúmil adored them all.

Orophin leaned in to kiss him, and then knelt up, nudging him to lie on his back as he began to do for Rúmil what Rúmil had just done for him, making his way down Rúmil’s body with soft kisses to each one of his scars; sanctifying them, Rúmil thought, like a ritual. Orophin kissed the top of the scar that curved around his hipbone and then ran the tip of his tongue all the way down the length of it, down to his thigh, and Rúmil could not help the soft moan that escaped him, so close was Orophin’s mouth to somewhere rather more sensitive. Orophin glanced up at him, amusement and desire dancing in his eyes, and moved over just a little, brushing a kiss and flicking the tip of his tongue over the head of him, and Rúmil moaned again, utterly helpless. 

“Please,” he murmured, though he could not have said what he was asking for; only, perhaps, _more_.

Orophin kissed him there again and then slid up to lie atop him, propping himself up on his elbows as he leaned down to press a kiss to Rúmil’s lips, even as he angled his hips downwards, making Rúmil whimper. 

“Orophin,” he whispered, “ _please_ ,” and Orophin smiled. 

“What, meleth?”

“I - Valar, Orophin, I want you _so much_. In whatever way you wish, just _please_ , I cannot bear any more teasing.”

Orophin paused, and for one awful, heartbreaking moment Rúmil thought he had changed his mind. But then he leaned down for another kiss, and Rúmil had not thought it possible to feel such joy, such relief - and such _desire_.

“I have only little experience at this,” Orophin admitted, and Rúmil felt his heart skip at the blush that had appeared high on Orophin’s cheekbones. 

“I will show you, meleth,” he murmured, and leaned over to the cupboard beside the bed, finding the cut-glass bottle by touch and showing it to Orophin, tilting it so that the liquid it held clung to the glass as it moved. Orophin’s blush deepened, and Rúmil felt his own cheeks warming. 

“How long have you had that, meleth-nín?” Orophin asked, and Rúmil laughed softly. 

“Not so long,” he said. “It was a gift, just in case I should need it. Intended for nobody else but you.”

Orophin raised one eyebrow. “The twins again?”

“The twins,” Rúmil confirmed. “But I really do not wish to think of them just now.” He gave Orophin a wicked smile and uncorked the bottle, pouring a little of the contents onto his fingers and then stopping it up again, setting it aside and taking Orophin’s hand, slicking his fingers as well. Shifting so that Orophin was lying between his legs rather than atop them, he drew his knees up and guided Orophin’s hand down between his thighs, showing him what to do. Biting back a cry as Orophin applied this new knowledge, he brought his own hand back round to wrap it around Orophin’s arousal, smoothing the oil along his length with great care, drawing as much pleasure from Orophin’s soft gasps of pleasure at his touch, as from the sensation of Orophin’s fingers gently but insistently preparing him. 

Soon enough Rúmil could bear it no more, and he guided Orophin to the right place, wrapping his legs around him and pressing his heels into the small of Orophin’s back, arching up to meet him and crying out properly this time as Orophin moved almost unbearably slowly to fill him. Tensing around him, Rúmil curled his fingers around the base of Orophin’s ribcage, his fingertips meeting over his spine, and nudged him to move with a roll of his hips. 

“Ai, Rúmil,” whispered Orophin, “you will undo me…”

Rúmil laughed breathlessly. “That was - ai! - rather the point, melethron-nín. Just move - _please_ \- nothing else matters, I promise.”

Orophin gasped, and then flexed his hips and moved, and Rúmil felt suddenly as though they were caught in time, everything slowing and shrinking until the world contained only them, as far as they knew or cared, slow thrusts and long kisses and whispered endearments, gasps and moans and soft voices repeating each other’s names, over and over and over. Nothing mattered but each other, driving each other slowly insane with desire and passion and _love_. Such love. Rúmil thought distractedly that he had never known it was possible to feel so much, had never dreamed that someone could feel so much for him in return. He felt suddenly on the verge of tears, overwhelmed by the intensity of this moment, and when he looked up, blinking, into Orophin’s eyes he saw that he, too, was very close to weeping. 

Almost unconsciously they began moving faster, as if driven by something not entirely within their control, building, building, almost to fever pitch, and then Rúmil grabbed the back of Orophin’s neck and pulled him down into a searing kiss that swallowed both their cries as they fell headlong into completion. 

They lay shivering together for a long moment, their breathing ragged, as the world reformed itself around them. Nothing would ever be the same again, Rúmil thought, but now all was as it should be. They completed each other, and nothing would part them again.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Orophin lay quietly while Rúmil slept in his arms; for himself, his heart was too full to sleep just yet. He understood why Rúmil had wished to delay taking these last steps together, he knew that they must both be absolutely sure of their wishes before they crossed this border; but he was so blissfully happy that today they had both found themselves ready to turn that page. He had not known it was possible to feel such joy, such pleasure, in another’s company, and he realised that only now did he notice the loneliness, the emptiness he had felt before, now that they were banished for ever. 

He supposed that he should not be surprised that Rúmil had proved to be more experienced than himself in this arena. He had always known that Rúmil’s lovers had been exclusively male, but he himself had had only one male lover. One or two ellith, but only ever one ellon, and during that brief affair long ago Orophin had always played the role of taken, never taker. But Rúmil had known what to do, and had even been prepared, with the help of the sons of Elrond.

Orophin was not entirely sure what to think of Rúmil’s friendship with the twins. It sounded to him rather as though Elrond’s sons had designs upon Rúmil, but Rúmil himself insisted their intentions were honourable, so Orophin supposed he must trust him and accept that. But he would be paying close attention to them, if the Lady Arwen did ever contrive to invite her father’s household to Lothlórien. He owed them his thanks, for certain, but he certainly did not intend to allow them to take any advantage with Rúmil. 

Tightening his arms around Rúmil, Orophin knew that he would have to be particularly careful in the next hours and days to show Rúmil that he had nothing to fear, that Orophin was not going to ‘come to his senses’ or abandon him. Truly, Orophin thought, he had only really come to his senses when he had realised the true depth of his feelings for Rúmil, and he did not want to allow any room for doubt to creep in on Rúmil’s part. Orophin had never been so sure of anything in his life, and he was determined to hold onto it with all the strength he had in him.

After a time, Rúmil stretched and yawned, blinking awake and smiling up at Orophin, a smile almost heartbreakingly sweet, deadly as he was. 

“How are you feeling, meleth?” Orophin murmured, and Rúmil leaned up for a kiss. 

“As though I have my heart’s desire,” he whispered, “and you gave it to me. Do you truly have no regrets?”

“Not a one,” said Orophin firmly, kissing him again. “On the contrary, melethron-nín, I rather want to do it again.”

Rúmil’s smile grew wider with delight and he wriggled deliberately in Orophin’s arms, making sure to rub teasingly against him. “I am going to kiss every last inch of your skin,” he said, “ _every last inch_ ,” and he began to fulfil his promise right away.

Closing his eyes, Orophin gave himself over to Rúmil’s ministrations, losing himself in the pleasure and the joy of their union. This was not the end of the book, as Rúmil had feared, but only the last pages of the prologue; the rest of the book still awaited them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> meleth-nín: my love  
> melethron-nín: my lover  
> ellith: female Elves  
> ellon: male Elf


	21. A Secret Sweetheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orophin has to go on patrol and neither he nor Rúmil are particularly keen on the idea. Rúmil makes a confession to Arwen.

A month or so after Rúmil’s return from Imladris, Orophin found himself back on the rota for patrol duty. 

“Rúmil may have a longer period of grace, in return for his service in Imladris, although it is a great inconvenience to me that I must now remove him from the lists for the border watch,” Haldir explained over the breakfast table, “but Orophin, gwanûr-nín, I am afraid I can pull strings for you no longer, and I need you to make up the numbers for a sortie out to the northernmost part of the woods. You’ll only be gone a few days, I promise.”

Rúmil and Orophin exchanged a look, Rúmil reaching out to curl his fingers around Orophin’s. They had known this moment would come, of course, but although they knew Haldir had been more than generous in allowing Orophin so much free time, it still felt far too soon to let each other go just yet. 

“You don’t have to leave until tomorrow,” Haldir said, “so that gives you a little while to say your goodbyes, and I will make sure I am elsewhere tonight.” His tone was light, teasing, and Rúmil could not help the blush that warmed his face. Haldir seemed to find it amusing that his brothers were spending so very much time in one bedroom or the other, and truly Rúmil would gladly take the teasing acceptance over condemnation, but he still could not quite help feeling embarrassed. 

They had been spending the time slowly discovering each other, finding all the places that gave each other pleasure, all the ways they could express the love between them, and they had been blissfully happy, but of course this time together had to end; they both had duties to carry out, after all, and they could hardly lounge around in bed together every day until the end of time. 

Still, they had one last day and night together, and Rúmil vowed to himself that he would send Orophin away with the memory of his touch imprinted upon his skin, in the hope that it might last until they were together again.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
The following morning, Rúmil awoke early to find Orophin propped on one elbow, looking down at him with an expression at once adoring and stricken. 

“I know it is only for a few days,” Orophin murmured, “but I am not quite sure how I will survive until I see you again.”

Rúmil smiled. “We don’t have much time, melethron-nín, but I will give you one last memory to take with you.” Leaning up for a slow, languorous kiss, he shifted a little and slid his hand between them, stroking gently but firmly and swallowing Orophin’s helpless moans as he fulfilled his promise. 

But all too soon it was time for Orophin to leave and join his patrol, and Rúmil helped him dress, trying his hardest to hide how heavy his heart felt. He brushed Orophin’s hair out, memorising the sensation as it slipped through his fingers, and then braided it back out of his face, creating the traditional warrior’s braids but adding a few twists that Orophin’s comrades would probably never notice, twists that signified that the braids had been done by the one who held Orophin’s heart. Neither of them had had cause to wear that particular style before, but now - now they could.

They said their last goodbyes in the living area - Haldir had been as good as his word, making himself scarce after breakfast the previous day, and still had not returned. One fierce, searing kiss, and then another, and then Orophin stepped back deliberately, almost tearing himself from Rúmil’s arms. 

“I must go, meleth-nín, or I will never leave your embrace and someone will come looking for me. I will come to you as soon as we return.”

“Be careful,” Rúmil said, almost desperately. “Please be careful, Orophin. I could not bear it if I lost you now.”

Orophin smiled. “I will take the same care of myself that I would of you, if you were with me. I promise you, I have no desire to leave you. I will be back before you even realise I have gone.” He leaned in and brushed one last kiss over Rúmil’s lips, and then he was gone, dropping down onto the ladder. Rúmil resisted the temptation to go and watch as he walked away, knowing that would make everything so much worse, but after a few moments he realised that he could not stay here, in the empty talan. Not when everything here reminded him of Orophin and of the time they had spent together since he had returned home.

He gave Orophin enough time that he would not catch him up, knowing he could not bear to see him in public and not be able to go to him, and then left the talan himself, heading in the opposite direction. Out to the east, he thought, he would go and explore the treetops and try to ignore the misery that was already threatening to grow inside his heart.

Rúmil was making his way through the city when he heard someone calling his name, a clear, beautiful elleth’s voice, and when he turned he saw the Lady Arwen sitting on a bench near her grandmother’s scrying-pool, a piece of embroidery in her hand and the same little elleth sitting beside her as had brought the message from the Lady to Rúmil in his talan the day of their first swordcraft practice. 

“Mae govannen, my Lady,” he said, bowing, “and mae govannen, pen-neth. What might I do for you this morning?” He was not exactly in the mood for company, but he did not feel he could snub Arwen, no matter how much he wished to be alone.

“Would you come and sit with me for a little while?” she asked, patting the bench beside her, and Rúmil obediently sat down. “If I am honest, I simply wish for some sensible conversation,” Arwen said once he was settled. “Niphredil and I are doing our best, but really, we only have so much to talk about, when we barely leave the palace and hardly do anything except read and sew. Perhaps you might tell us what you have been doing since last we saw you.”

Rúmil tried his hardest not to blush, but was not entirely successful. Arwen saw his consternation and gave a delighted laugh. “Oh, Rúmil, do you have a sweetheart?”

“Forgive me, my lady,” he said when he had regained his composure a little, reasoning that her invitation to use her name only stood for times when she was alone with him and his brothers. “I am not at liberty to tell you.”

“Oh, a _secret_ sweetheart! How delightful. In that case, of course you must not tell us. We shall be dying of curiosity, shall we not, Niphredil, but we shall just have to live with the intrigue.”

The little elleth was staring very intently at the needlework upon her lap, blushing harder than Rúmil had, and he found his own embarrassment melting away in the face of Arwen’s amused air of courtly intrigue. This was a game he could perhaps play, and it might be easier than straightforwardly pretending he had nothing to hide.

“I am afraid you shall, my ladies,” he said after a moment. “I may not tell a single soul.”

“Well, then, in that case we must wish you well. I am very glad to find that you have someone to care for you, mellon-nín. But forgive me for asking - you looked quite unhappy just now, when first I saw you. Is all well with you?”

Rúmil realised that Arwen was just as perceptive as her brothers, and sent up a silent prayer to the Valar to help him play her courtly game without giving anything away to her.

“My brother has just left on a patrol for a few days, my lady,” he said. “My oldest brother, Orophin, you remember. It is the first time he has been called away since I returned from Imladris, and I must confess that I am worried about him.”

“He is a most accomplished warrior, is he not?” Arwen inquired. 

“He is, my lady, but still I worry, for he is my brother and we have always been close, the three of us. We all worry about each other, when one or other of us is called to duty. I used to find it frustrating, when my brothers fussed over me, but as I have grown older I have realised that I probably fuss just as much over them.” Rúmil hoped he had covered his true feelings with brotherly concern.

“That is indeed understandable,” said Arwen. “I worry terribly about my brothers, for all I know that they are two of the deadliest warriors in all of Middle-Earth. All it would take would be a piece of bad luck - but I am sure that is the last thing you need to hear at the moment. I am sure Orophin will return safely. Do you know how long he might be gone?”

“Only a few days, Haldir said, but who knows for sure. They might encounter nothing, and be back in no time, or they might meet all manner of intruders and be gone a week or more.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I have become a mother hen, it seems, in my time away from my brothers.”

“Well, we shall have to distract you, then,” said Arwen. “I am afraid I have no time for dancing at present, for Niphredil and I have these very important pieces of embroidery to complete for my mother, but perhaps simple conversation may do the trick.” She showed Rúmil the work in her hand, a half-finished piece of great intricacy, flowers and vines intertwining to form a frame around a scene, although it was not quite clear what the scene depicted. 

“It is beautiful, my lady,” Rúmil said, truthfully. “But I am afraid I cannot quite work out its subject.”

“It is not at all your fault,” said Arwen, “for we have not managed to do nearly enough of the pictures. It is part of a wall-hanging that my Naneth wishes to present to my Adar, depicting the history of their two families. See here, you can just make out the prow of the ship of Eärendil the Mariner, and over here Niphredil is working on Elwing in her form as a white bird.” Arwen nudged Niphredil to show Rúmil her embroidery, and the little elleth shyly presented the work to him, stealing a glance up at him from under her eyelashes.

“It is most beautiful,” Rúmil told her. “You are truly very skilled, Lady Niphredil.” 

Little Niphredil blushed scarlet again, murmuring a stumbling thank-you, and Arwen placed a soothing hand upon her arm. 

“You are very kind to both of us, mellon-nín,” Arwen said, and Rúmil smiled.

“If I am, it is because you have shown great kindness to me, my lady,” he said. “And besides, I speak the truth. Your skills with the needle are surely greater than mine with the sword.”

“You are quite the charmer, Rúmil,” Arwen laughed. “I will have to tell my brothers so, when I write to them.”

At that, Rúmil suddenly remembered that he had promised to write to the twins, to let them know that he had had the courage to speak to Orophin, and their paths had crossed and merged to form one.

“My lady, I would beg a favour of you,” he said, and when Arwen raised a curious eyebrow, he continued. “I promised to send word to your brothers when I returned home, on a matter of great personal import. So far I have not found the opportunity, but I wonder if, when you write to them next, you would mind enclosing a small note to them from me?”

“Of course,” said Arwen. “A ‘matter of great personal import’, indeed. Am I to infer from this that my brothers are permitted to know about your secret sweetheart, and I am not?” Her eyes were dancing and her tone was filled with amusement, and Rúmil groaned inwardly, for he had walked right into the trap that she had not even laid for him.

“I am sorry, my lady,” Rúmil said, searching frantically for the words to explain without truly explaining. “When I was in Imladris your brothers divined that all was not well in my heart, and they gave me most valuable counsel. But it is a difficult matter, and I think most would not understand, hence the secrecy.”

Arwen raised one perfect brow. “Well, now you really are going to have to tell me,” she said, and when Rúmil hesitated, glancing at Niphredil, she nodded and smiled. “Go on back to our rooms, Niphredil. I will be along in a moment. Sometimes having a secret sweetheart involves things which might not be suitable for the ears of an elleth as young as you.”

Niphredil got up and bobbed a curtsey, blushing furiously again, and scampered off in the direction of the palace, looking at once disappointed and relieved to have been dismissed.

“I think she likes you,” Arwen said once the Elfling was out of earshot. 

“Me?” Rúmil said, surprised.

“Yes, you. You really are very handsome, you know, and you are kind to her, and charming. She is not used to grown-up Elves taking much notice of her, I think, except for me. Poor little one, she is an orphan; her parents were slain by Orcs on the road, and she only escaped by hiding in the bushes until they had gone. My brothers found her and brought her to Imladris, and I took her in to be my companion. She is a good girl, but really quite terribly shy.”

“Poor little thing,” Rúmil murmured. “It is my pleasure to be kind to her, for it costs me nothing, and I find that everyone is worthy of attention, even one as little as her.”

“And that is why we like you, mellon-nín,” said Arwen. “Now, you were going to tell me all about your secret sweetheart.”

“Was I?” said Rúmil, smiling mischievously, wondering if he could get away without telling her by making a jest of it, all part of the game.

“You were,” said Arwen firmly, and Rúmil sighed.

“I would not have you think ill of me, Arwen,” he said, venturing to use her name now that they were alone.

“I could never think ill of you,” she replied, suddenly serious. “My brothers did tell me that you carried a heavy burden in your heart, one that defied convention but not the ancient customs, and they asked me to look after you, should you need me to. So far you have not seemed to require it, but you looked so sad earlier, and I wish you to know that I am here, if you need my help.”

Rúmil shook his head, feeling as though he should not be surprised. “Truly, my lady, I thought when I first met them that your brothers were dangerous, but I find that I entirely mistook the reason for it.”

“We look after those who are dear to us,” Arwen said, laying her hand over his. “And you are dear to us, Rúmil. I promise you, nothing you can say will shock me. I am not the fainting maiden some would have the people believe me to be.”

“Very well, then, my lady,” said Rúmil after a moment, reasoning that if he could trust the twins, he could trust their sister. “My sweetheart, the one who has held my heart for far longer than he knew - it is my brother Orophin. Your brothers told me that it is not well known that this kind of love is permitted, and so we must keep it hidden, for most people would not understand. Although before I met them, I had thought it forbidden, so they did set my mind at rest.”

“I see,” said Arwen gently. “I must confess, I did suspect something of the sort, and I did try to guess which of your brothers it might be, but that day in the clearing I truly could not divine it. Your secret is safe from others, and I promise you I will never betray the honour you have given me by sharing it with me.” She patted his hand gently. “And now I understand why you looked so despondent earlier. He will return in no time, and you will be as happy as you were before.”

“I hope so,” said Rúmil, “for I do not know what I would do without him.”

“And Valar willing, you will never have to find out,” said Arwen. “Now, I am afraid I will have to leave you, for Niphredil will be wondering where I am. But if you ever need a sympathetic ear, simply send me word.” She patted his hand again and rose to her feet, and Rúmil stood with her. “Oh,” she said, “and when you have written your letter to my brothers, bring it to the palace and give it to Niphredil. She will bring it to me, and I will send it on to them.”

“Thank you,” Rúmil said. “I do not know how I will ever be able to repay your kindness, yours and your brothers’, but if you ever need anything that is within my power to do for you, you need only ask.”

“Of course,” said Arwen with a smile. “Now, I must away, but if you wish to stay here a while longer you may. I will see that nobody disturbs you.” And she was gone in a flurry of silks, leaving Rúmil to sit back down upon the bench after a moment. He still missed Orophin, but somehow he felt better for his conversation with Arwen. Truly her friendship, and that of her brothers, was a blessing from the Valar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> gwanûr-nín: my brother  
> melethron-nín: my lover  
> meleth-nín: my love  
> elleth: female Elf  
> mae govannen: well met; greetings  
> pen-neth: little one (literally: young one)  
> mellon-nín: my friend  
> naneth: mother (formal)  
> adar: father (formal)
> 
> Kudos and comments are of course not obligatory, but every single one absolutely makes my day, so if you enjoy this story and leave one or the other (or both!), you will be making me very happy indeed and I thank you in advance from the bottom of my tired little heart. <3


	22. You Make Me Feel Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orophin returns from patrol, and he and Rúmil make up for lost time. Rúmil tells Orophin that Arwen knows about them, and reassures him that she will keep their secret.

Orophin returned to Caras Galadhon early in the morning at the turn of the week, having spent a very frustratingly quiet patrol longing every moment to be home, and he made straight for the talan, knowing that Rúmil would wish to have their reunion in private. It was a wise precaution, after all, for Orophin knew that he would not be able to keep his feelings from showing upon his face and in his actions as soon as he set eyes upon his beloved. 

Hurrying up the ladder, he found that the living area was empty. A glance in the direction of Rúmil’s room told him that it, too, was unoccupied, and for a moment he was afraid that Rúmil was not here. But then he realised that the door to his own bedroom stood half open and when he looked into the room he realised that Rúmil was stretched out upon his bed, fast asleep and completely naked; the sheet looked as though it had once been draped across his waist, but he had moved in his sleep and now only a corner of it lay across his midsection, barely covering him at all. Orophin caught his breath, unable to keep from staring. The sun had been risen for an hour or so, and it was just beginning to creep through the trees, dappling Rúmil’s smooth skin in golden light and soft grey shadow. He was as beautiful as the illustrations in some of the books Orophin had read in the library while Rúmil had been away in Imladris, perhaps even more so, for unlike the illustrations, Rúmil was real. Orophin watched his chest rise and fall, watched his eyelids flicker, and as Rúmil stretched and turned a little in his sleep, leaning into the warmth of the sunlight as it fell across his face, he let out a soft murmur of pleasure, and Orophin found he could not simply stand and watch any more. Setting down his pack as quietly as he could, he quickly slid out of his clothes, folding them hastily and putting them aside, and lay down on the bed, careful not to wake Rúmil. Stretching out alongside him, he began to trace his fingers up and down Rúmil’s arm, up and over his shoulder, down his chest and torso, to the base of his stomach and then back up again. Rúmil arched a little into his touch, letting out a soft moan, but he did not wake. 

Orophin brushed a kiss over Rúmil’s temple, then his forehead, the bridge of his nose, down to his mouth, where he pressed the softest of kisses, drawing the very tip of his tongue over Rúmil’s lips. Rúmil moaned softly again and his eyelids fluttered open, blinking once, twice, as he registered Orophin’s presence.

“Orophin,” he murmured, “am I dreaming?” and Orophin smiled against his lips. 

“No, meleth-nín, I am here,” he whispered, kissing him again, and Rúmil returned the kiss, arching against him as he came fully into wakefulness. 

“Oh…I have missed you so much,” Rúmil said, twining his arms around Orophin’s neck and pulling him closer. “You were barely gone a week and I thought I would go mad with it.” 

“I know,” said Orophin, holding him as tightly as he dared, “for I felt it too. It took a great effort to concentrate my mind upon my duties, and not on thoughts of you.”

Rúmil grinned wickedly, contriving to move in such a way that the whole length of his body slid deliciously against Orophin’s. “Mmmhh,” he murmured, “I hope you were able to think of me sometimes, when you were alone.”

“Every moment,” Orophin whispered. “You sent me on my way with more than enough memories to see me through. But I find that they all pale compared to having you actually here, in my arms.”

“So I should hope,” said Rúmil, shifting slightly so that he could lick a trail up the side of Orophin’s neck, then up and over his ear to flick his tongue against the tip and then take it into his mouth. 

Orophin groaned as quietly as he was able, assuming that Haldir would still be in his room just the other side of the partition. “I want you so much more than I did before,” he said, breathless, “and even then I wanted you so much it was all I could do to bear it.”

“Then _have_ me,” murmured Rúmil, shifting onto his back and parting his legs. “And later, I shall have _you_.”

It was all the invitation Orophin needed, and he moved to accept it at once. His week of absence had felt like a year, or a decade, and he was determined to lose no time in making up for the days they had lost.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Later - much later, for it transpired that making up for lost time took quite some time in itself - they lay tangled together, tired but happy and most deliciously sated. Orophin’s head was pillowed on Rúmil’s chest, and he was only half-awake, luxuriating in the sensation of being here, being home, with Rúmil’s arms around him and Rúmil’s hands in his hair, gently sifting it through his fingers. Every now and then Rúmil would very deliberately nudge against the tip of Orophin’s ear, and Orophin would let out a soft moan or a whimper, utterly exhausted but still feeling helpless pleasure at the touch. 

“Arwen knows about us,” Rúmil said eventually, and Orophin gave a start, shifting so that he could look up at Rúmil’s face.

“She does? How?” He could not entirely keep the worry from his tone, for as kind and compassionate as the Lady Arwen had seemed, he could not simply assume that she would understand. 

“I told her,” Rúmil said, “although I think she had begun to put the pieces together from things her brothers had said. She is as perceptive as they are, if not more. But do not worry, meleth-nín, for she was as kind as the twins were, and she will not denounce us. She wishes us nothing but joy.”

“Are you sure?” Orophin asked, still not entirely convinced. 

“I am certain,” said Rúmil. “Her word means to her what ours does to us. You must not worry, meleth. She is our friend.” He shifted a little so that he could give Orophin a reassuring kiss. “She saw me on the morning you left; I was walking, trying to distract myself from my unhappiness at having to let you go, and she saw the sadness written on my face. She asked me to sit with her and her maiden for a while, and we talked. She divined that I had a sweetheart, and although I said I was not at liberty to tell her, she teased me a little, for having a secret.” There was a smile in his voice. “Truly she is as dangerous as the twins, for she ensnared me without leaving any trace of her trap. The Lady Arwen likes to play games with her friends, it turns out, and I lost quite comprehensively.”

“She - she made you tell her?” Orophin frowned, that did not sound kind, or friendly. 

Rúmil laughed. “Not at all. I promise, it was all in fun, but she charmed me into admitting that her brothers knew my secret, and from there it was only a matter of time before I confided in her. She had sent her maiden away by then, so she is the only one who knows. And as I said, she gave me her word that she would not tell. I truly believe that she has no reason to, in any case. She considers us her friends, and she is not duplicitous. She plays games, but only in fun, not to manipulate us as pawns, and she will gladly be our confidante, if we should have need of her.”

“I suppose we shall see,” said Orophin. 

“We shall, and you will come to trust her and her brothers as I do. Give it time, meleth-nín, and they will prove their worth to you.” Rúmil resumed stroking Orophin’s hair, and Orophin lowered his head again to rest it upon his brother’s chest. He was still not entirely convinced, but he trusted Rúmil’s judgement, and he would have to believe that Elrond’s children would keep their secret.

In the meantime, he would set aside his worries and simply enjoy being able to lie here with his beloved, feeling Rúmil’s strong arms around him and Rúmil’s fingers carding softly through his hair. He felt safe, here, safer than he had ever felt before, he realised. Rúmil made him feel safe, and that was new. 

Orophin examined the thought, turning it around so that he could see it from every angle. He had always thought, as the oldest of the three, that he should be the one to protect his brothers, the one who kept them safe and made sure they never had to fear a single thing. Of course, once they were no longer Elflings it had become more complicated, and Haldir especially had taken the lessons in warcraft that Orophin had tried his best to pass on and advanced calmly through the ranks of the Galadhrim, surpassing Orophin’s skill almost at the first opportunity, but Orophin had still felt responsible for him, for all that Haldir outranked him. And Rúmil - he had practised incessantly, wanting to do well and make his older brothers proud, but he had always retained an air of vulnerability, somehow; or at least, that was how Orophin had interpreted it. It had made Orophin overprotective; perhaps that was the reason he had felt unable to let Rúmil grow up on his own, or to admit that his youngest brother was a fully-grown Elf and a more than capable soldier. But perhaps that air of vulnerability had been something else entirely, for now it had vanished, replaced with a calm, deadly confidence. Rúmil’s years away from Caras Galadhon - away from his brothers, and, Orophin suspected, away from his own excessive vigilance where he was concerned, had allowed him to cast off the last vestiges of the Elfling he had not been for centuries. He had grown into himself, and had become - well, Orophin thought, he had become perfect. They had become equals, standing together on a level field at last, and Orophin felt a weight dissolving away in his mind. He did not need to be the protector all the time any more, and he could allow himself to be protected. They could look after each other now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> meleth-nín: my love
> 
> Kudos and comments are of course not obligatory, but every single one absolutely makes my day, so if you enjoy this story and leave one or the other (or both!), you will be making me very happy indeed and I thank you in advance from the bottom of my tired little heart. <3


	23. Rather An Enormous Fuss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arwen persuades her father to bring his household to Lothlórien for a season. Orophin is worried about the twins’ intentions with regard to Rúmil, and Arwen reassures him.

It was almost a year after Orophin and Rúmil had become lovers that Arwen finally managed to persuade her father to bring his household to the Golden Wood for a season, at the very end of spring. The preparations seemed to occupy half the city, and most of the Galadhrim; patrols were increased and all three brothers barely saw each other for days on end. Haldir had occasionally allowed Orophin and Rúmil to be on the same patrol, but mostly he had scheduled them separately, always with sincere apologies. 

“You both need to be focussed on your duties,” he had said on more than one occasion, “and I have decided that, on balance, you will be more of a distraction to each other if you are together, than your mutual pining for each other will be if you are apart.”

They had both denied everything, but they had known that Haldir was probably right. When they were together in private, they could hardly stand to be physically parted, and when they were together in public they had to concentrate so hard upon appearing just like any other pair of brothers, that they found it difficult to give their full focus to other things.

And so they had resigned themselves to having to spend some time apart, although they knew that once the party from Imladris had arrived, they would be excused at least some of their duties; Arwen had already made it quite clear that she expected to be able to spend time with her friends as well as her brothers. Haldir had deferred to her, of course, but privately there had been a certain amount of muttering about how little he could spare two of his best soldiers at this particular moment.

“You’ll have to live with it, gwanûr-nín,” Rúmil had informed him cheerfully. “Besides, there are plenty of our comrades who are _almost_ as good as we are.”

Haldir had, at this juncture, pointed out that he could quite easily dispatch Rúmil off to the border watch again, and that if both his brothers were not very careful, his pen might just slip and write Rúmil’s name on the wrong list. Given that Haldir never made mistakes - or at least, only so very rarely that it might just as well be never - they took it as an empty threat, but they trod carefully all the same, just in case.

The day of Lord Elrond’s arrival dawned bright and fair, and Haldir hastened off to the border where he was to form part of the greeting party. Orophin was stationed as part of the guard of honour on the path into Caras Galadhon, and Rúmil was placed at the palace itself, his duty being to serve in the guard for the Lady and the Lord, and the Ladies Celebrían and Arwen and their maidens. 

“They are making rather an enormous fuss about it all, are they not?” Orophin observed as he braided Rúmil’s hair, careful to keep the style within those permitted for the Galadhrim but still adding a few lovers’ twists here and there. Rúmil had already done the same for him, and was now sitting mostly patiently, although he was excited to see his friends again.

“Well, it is rare that Lord Elrond visits Lothlórien, and as I understand it he has never brought his whole household here before. Arwen said that not only are her father and brothers coming, but Lord Glorfindel, Master Erestor, and more than half the court. Only Master Lindir must remain behind as steward, and look after their home while they are gone.”

“I suppose there will be ceremonies for days,” said Orophin gloomily. “Knowing the Lady and the Lord, and knowing of Lord Elrond’s love of formality, not to mention the Lady Celebrían’s fondness for protocol, I should imagine we shall be standing around at attention until Midsummer.”  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
This was something that Arwen had mentioned the last time Rúmil and Orophin had managed to steal away to help her with her swordcraft; Haldir had been far too busy to join them, and Arwen had expressed her apologies to all three of them in advance for the amount of extra duties they were about to have pressed upon them. 

“But I promise you, mellyn-nín, I will make sure that you have plenty of time free of duties so that you may join my brothers and me as much as possible. They are most keen to see you again, Rúmil, and to meet you and Haldir, Orophin.”

Orophin had only nodded, at the time, and expressed his eagerness to meet the twins, but afterwards, as Arwen was making ready to leave, he had asked her if he might speak to her alone for a moment.

“Of course,” she smiled, and walked with him a little way into the forest on the far side of the clearing, leaving Rúmil picking up the water-skin and looking bewildered.

“What may I do for you, Orophin?” Arwen had asked, when they were just out of Rúmil’s earshot, and Orophin hesitated, feeling foolish now. He had grown more comfortable in Arwen’s company over the year, and had come to trust her, but at the same time he did not know her as well as Rúmil did, and he was not sure whether he was about to make a complete idiot of himself.

“I just wanted to ask you, my lady - Arwen, I mean. I wanted to ask you about your brothers.”

“What about them?” she inquired with a smile, raising an eyebrow. 

“I just - I am aware that this sounds less than sensible, but I am a little afraid - please forgive me, but I am afraid in case one or other of your brothers might have designs upon Rúmil. And I do not wish to be rude, but that is not something I can countenance.”

Arwen laughed softly. “Designs upon him? Oh, Orophin. You need not fear. My brothers might trifle with others occasionally, when the whim takes them, but never with their friends, and Rúmil is their friend now. Besides, as you will see if you watch them very carefully, they truly only have eyes for each other.”

Orophin’s own eyes widened - she knew about that? He was not sure what to say, but Arwen took pity on him and continued before he could attempt to stumble over a reply. 

“You will have to watch carefully, for they are as good as you and Rúmil at hiding what they truly are to each other, but I think you might see it, since you know it is there.” She laid a hand upon his arm, and gave him a truly lovely smile. “I promise, Rúmil is safe. He is yours, and even if he were not a friend, my brothers would never trespass upon the heart’s desire of another. They are terrible flirts, particularly Elladan, and they will certainly flirt with both of you - all three of you, for that matter - but it will only be flirting. Now, I think you should go back to him, and I will return to my very important business. Today, my mother and grandmother and I must choose which dishes will be served at the great welcoming banquet on the first evening. To which you three, of course, will be invited as my guests, although I am afraid that I will not be able to seat you with me, for I must sit at the top table and be gracious rather than enjoying the evening with my friends.” She flashed him a mischievous smile. “However, I am sure that once the interminable speeches are over, my brothers at least will find a way to sneak away from the grandees, and once there is music and dancing, of course I will contrive to spend time with my guests. But for now, I must go and think about food - and you should not spend a moment more worrying about my dreadful brothers.” Arwen patted his arm, and then she flipped up the hood on her cloak and was gone.

Orophin made his way back to Rúmil, who by now was looking torn between confusion and impatience.

“What was all that about?” he wanted to know, and Orophin decided that he could not quite bear to own up to his foolish worries just yet. 

“She says she will invite us - all three of us - to the welcoming banquet, as her guests. We won’t be able to sit with her, but she says her brothers will probably manage to come and find us, and she will be able to do so too once the dinner is over.” He paused, struck with a sudden realisation. “A grand banquet. What on earth will we wear? Banquets mean robes, and we have none. Haldir has that ceremonial red cloak of his, but you and I only have our uniforms and our normal clothes, and they are so alike as to be more or less the same.”

Rúmil shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll think of something,” he said, off-handedly, not really paying attention; Orophin thought that perhaps he had had an inkling of an idea that Arwen would invite them, although in truth most of Lothlórien would be there, so this would have been something they would have had to think about anyway. But being guests of the granddaughter of the Lady and the Lord was a different matter, and they would surely have to dress accordingly. Orophin had not the slightest idea what they would do about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> gwanûr-nín: my brother  
> mellyn-nín: my friends
> 
> Kudos and comments are of course not obligatory, but every single one absolutely makes my day, so if you enjoy this story and leave one or the other (or both!), you will be making me very happy indeed and I thank you in advance from the bottom of my tired little heart. <3


	24. A Gift We Must Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil assuages Orophin’s worries about the twins, and Arwen sends him and his brothers a gift. Rúmil has an admirer. And the party from Imladris arrives.

They began to walk home, and after a while Rúmil asked the question that, it appeared, was truly on his mind, the reason for his off-handedness about the banquet. “What did you want to talk to her about, though? It can’t have been the banquet that made you want to speak to her alone.” He glanced at Orophin, and Orophin, distinctly uncomfortable, hoped that Rúmil could not divine the exact emotion Orophin was feeling: embarrassment.

“I might have made something of a fool of myself,” Orophin said, a little reluctantly. “But I was just…I wanted to ask her - I was worried that the twins might have an interest in you.”

Rúmil stopped walking in surprise. “You were worried that they - oh, mele- _gwanûr_ -nín,” he amended the endearment hurriedly, remembering that they were in public and although there were very few others nearby, that did not mean that nobody could overhear them, “you do know that even if they did, it would avail them not at all, don’t you?”

“Well, yes,” said Orophin, looking shamefaced. “But they are - they are sons of a great Lord, and if they decided they wanted someone, they would be able to - “

Rúmil shook his head, charmed at Orophin’s concern for his virtue, but determined to dispel his misapprehensions. “They would never, never abuse their position, I promise you,” he whispered emphatically. “And certainly not with me. They are my friends, and they know where my heart lies, and they would not abuse that, either. They are honourable, and good, and kind, and you must not fear them.” Then he grinned a little wickedly. “They are, however, extremely beautiful and _very_ alluring, and were your heart not given to me, nor mine to you, either one of us might very much want to bed them. But as it is, all I want is you, and all you want is me, and so that is the end of it. They will tease, for certain, but they will not mean anything by it.”

“I will take your word for it,” said Orophin, and Rúmil smiled.

“Please do so,” he said. “I do not want you worrying yourself away over this, when there is truly nothing to worry about. You just have to prepare yourself for the fact that they will flirt - with me, yes, but also with you. Just deflect them, politely and with good humour, and they will take it in good part. Besides, they’ll like you more if you stand up to them.”

They had continued on their way home, and Rúmil had made Orophin forget his embarrassment and most of his worries about the twins, and before too long they had been caught up in the preparations again, which left very little time for brooding at all.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
On the day of Lord Elrond’s arrival, Orophin finished the last of Rúmil’s braids and stepped back to admire his handiwork, just as a knock came on the floor of the talan by the ladder. They both went to see who it was, not expecting visitors, and Rúmil glanced down to see Niphredil at the top of the ladder, a bag slung over her shoulder.

“Mae govannen, Lady Niphredil,” he said, noticing that she did not blush quite as much in his presence any more. “What can we do for you this morning?” He offered her his hand to help her up and into the room, and then she did blush, concentrating very hard on opening her bag and drawing out three bundles of fabric. 

“My lady sends you these,” she murmured, “and says she is most excited to see how you look in them this evening.” She thrust the bundles at Rúmil, hardly daring to meet his eyes, and Rúmil took them from her with a bewildered smile.

“Thank you, Niphredil,” he said. “What are they?”

“A gift, my lady says. And please excuse me, sirs, for I have so many more errands to run and not nearly enough time in which to run them.” She sounded a little desperate, and Rúmil nodded.

“Of course. Please convey our thanks to the Lady Arwen, and do not let us keep you any longer. We shall hope to see you at the banquet.”

“I shall probably be sent to bed before the real fun starts,” Niphredil burst out, and then clapped a hand over her mouth, looking stricken. 

Orophin laughed softly, but Rúmil flapped a hand at him to shut up. “Well, we shall hope to see you before that happens, in that case. Now, off you go, and good luck with the rest of your list of tasks.”

Niphredil bobbed a curtsey and dropped down onto the ladder, and Rúmil turned to his brother. “Don’t tease her,” he said, mock-fiercely, “you know she’s shy.”

“I wasn’t,” protested Orophin, “and I know she is, although it seems as though she is beginning to feel comfortable speaking her mind in front of us, or rather in front of you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Rúmil wanted to know, and Orophin grinned, clearly amused.

“She likes you,” he said with the air of one stating the obvious. “She really likes you. You’ll have to be very careful with her, or you’ll end up breaking her heart.”

“I am careful,” said Rúmil. “I am only being polite, and kind. I have never given her any reason to believe otherwise, and besides, she is not even fifty years old. There is no reason for her to think that I might - ai, Valar, do you think she thinks…?” He trailed off, horrified.

“I hope not,” said Orophin. “Then again, she knows you are spoken for, so that alone should be enough to tell her that she has no reason to hope - but then, Elflings are not always entirely reasonable. You might need to ask Arwen to have a word with her.”

“Oh no,” groaned Rúmil; the last thing he wanted to do was have that sort of conversation.

“Oh yes,” said Orophin, still with that air of amusement. “You have an admirer, meleth-nín, and it is your responsibility to make sure she is let down gently.”

“Why can’t people just be sensible about things?” grumbled Rúmil, and Orophin chuckled. 

“Because that is how life is,” he said. “Personally, I think it’s adorable. Anyway, do you not think we should take a look at what she brought us, before we have to go and take up our posts?”

Remembering that he still held the bundles Niphredil had thrust into his arms, Rúmil laid them out on the table. Each was wrapped in soft grey fabric and tied with a ribbon bearing the name of one of the brothers, embroidered in silver thread. Setting Haldir’s aside, Rúmil untied the ribbon on his own parcel, and the wrapping fell away to reveal a carefully folded set of clothes, all in shades of green and the finest fabrics, silks and velvets with embroidery in silver and gold. Rúmil drew in a breath and glanced at Orophin and saw that he had undone his bundle too, finding that it contained another set of clothes, just as finely made and decorated, but his were blue. 

“She’s sent us clothes for the banquet,” he breathed. 

“They’re far too fine,” Orophin murmured, “we can’t possibly accept them,” and Rúmil shook his head.

“We must. For one thing, there’s no time to give them back, and for another, you know she would not take them from us. This is a gift we must keep, and we must wear them tonight.”

“I suppose they’ll be far more in keeping than the things we managed to find at the back of the cupboard,” Orophin said; they had passed an afternoon rummaging everywhere they could think of and had eventually come up with just about enough items of formal clothing for all three of them to wear, though the clothes were all older than they were and doubtless hopelessly out of fashion.

“I suppose you’re right,” said Rúmil. “Oh, I want to look at them properly now, but we are going to have to go or we’ll be late - especially you, because you have to meet them on the road. Let’s just wrap them back up again and put them in our rooms, and then we’ll just have to put them on this evening.”

“Let’s hope they fit,” said Orophin, and Rúmil laughed.

“You shouldn’t reckon without the Lady Arwen’s skills at intrigue, meleth-nín. She’ll have sized us up with a glance and told the tailors everything.”

“I don’t want to think of that,” said Orophin, stowing his new clothes in his room as Rúmil did the same, “but you are right, I must go. I will see you this evening, if we are not free before.”

They exchanged a hasty kiss and then both hurried to their positions, Orophin on the road and Rúmil on the steps to the palace. It was likely to be a very long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> gwanûr-nín: my brother  
> mae govannen: well met; greetings  
> meleth-nín: my love
> 
> Kudos and comments are of course not obligatory, but every single one absolutely makes my day, so if you enjoy this story and leave one or the other (or both!), you will be making me very happy indeed and I thank you in advance from the bottom of my tired little heart. <3


	25. Brothers In Blood And In Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party from Imladris arrives. Rúmil and his brothers have developed an unbreakable bond.

Rúmil stood motionless at attention in his position on the steps of the palace, his comrades in front of him and behind him, another column of Galadhrim lining the other side of the steps, all of them facing forward towards the path from where Lord Elrond’s household would arrive. In between them stood the Lady and the Lord on a platform at the top of the first flight of stairs, with Arwen and the Lady Celebrían one on either side of them. Arwen had caught Rúmil’s eye when she had taken her place, mischief dancing in her gaze, and he had tried to send her a look of gratitude, although protocol forbade him from moving so much as a muscle.

Behind the Ladies and the Lord stood the members of their household, arranged in ranks up the second flight of steps. Rúmil could see Niphredil out of the corner of his eye and was amused to notice that she was trying very hard not to fidget. Some training with the Galadhrim would probably not go amiss there, he thought, although he also knew that she would never be permitted such a thing. Still, perhaps he and his brothers could teach her how to stand still for a length of time, and he resolved to mention it to Arwen.

The sound of a commotion began to bubble up from the distance, and the tension among the waiting crowd grew higher; here they came, at last! It was not long before the head of the procession came into view, and Rúmil was not at all surprised to see the twins leading the party, riding a near-identical pair of grey horses. The column of riders from Imladris was flanked by the Galadhrim who had formed the guard on the road, and it was the work of a moment for Rúmil to find Orophin, and to catch his eye. Neither of them could smile or otherwise acknowledge each other, but it was enough to make eye contact, for now, at least. 

Behind the twins rode Glorfindel, and then Erestor and Elrond, followed by all the various members of their household. Rúmil recognised some of them but had never learned their names. Master Lindir was indeed not present, but all the other higher-ranking Elves among Elrond’s staff were there, and the procession took its time making its way along the path that wound through the mellyrn to the clearing at the foot of the palace steps, watched by more or less the entire population of Caras Galadhon. The greeting party from the border brought up the rear, including Haldir and his fellow Marchwardens resplendent in their formal red capes.

As they reached the bottom of the steps, the twins leapt as one from their horses and ran lightly up the steps, saluting their mother and grandparents before catching Arwen up in an embrace; Rúmil thought it was a mirror image of the scene he had witnessed years earlier, when Arwen had arrived in Imladris. 

The twins looked exceptionally well, he thought, and as he thought it, he saw Arwen throwing a glance his way with a smile, and the twins followed her gaze just for a moment, echoing her smile with ones of their own. Then they withdrew to stand flanking their sister as Lord Glorfindel presented himself to the Ladies and the Lord, and then Lord Elrond himself stepped down from his horse and made his way up the stairs, followed by Master Erestor. He greeted the Lady and the Lord most formally, but then he had an embrace for his wife and another for his daughter, and the atmosphere of tension eased a little, just as it had the first time Rúmil had witnessed this reunion.

The Galadhrim all turned to face inward, now that the main members of the party had made their greeting, and the Lady Galadriel said some words of welcome, her lovely voice carrying to all sides of the clearing. And then she spread her arms wide and turned, ushering her family and friends up the steps into the palace, and then they were gone. 

The Galadhrim on the steps turned eyes-front again, and then stood at their ease, filing one by one down to join their fellows in the clearing, and then melting away into the trees, their part in the festivities over, for now at least. Rúmil caught Orophin’s eye again and cast a glance in the direction of home; it was probably not wise to meet and walk together, but they could each make their separate way without fear. 

When Rúmil reached the talan he found that he was the last to arrive; he could hear Orophin’s and Haldir’s voices from the bottom of the ladder, and as he swung himself up into the room he realised that Haldir had discovered the parcel Niphredil had brought from Arwen, still lying on the table.

“The Lady Arwen is too kind,” he was saying as Rúmil landed lightly upon the floorboards. “We cannot possibly accept such a generous gift.”

“That’s what I said,” said Orophin. “But Rúmil seems to think otherwise.”

“I do,” said Rúmil, coming to peer over Haldir’s shoulder at the contents of the parcel; the same fine fabrics and beautiful embroidery as his and Orophin’s, but Haldir’s were in shades of red. “The Lady has given this great thought, and it would be insufferably rude of us to return her gift to her.”

“I suppose you are right,” said Haldir a little reluctantly, but Rúmil saw his brother stroking the soft fabric between his fingers, almost unknowingly, and knew that the argument was already won.

“They really are rather beautiful,” said Orophin. “We are not accustomed to such finery. I cannot speak for you two, but I am going to feel horribly self-conscious.”

Rúmil laughed. “We need only follow Haldir, meleth, for as soon as he puts on this finery he will settle into it as though he has always worn robes and mixed with important people. We can blend into his shadow, and no one will look askance at us.”

Haldir cuffed Rúmil gently round the head, but he was smiling as he did it. “It is hardly my fault if I have learned some self-possession over the years, gwanûr-nín. Rather, I would say, it is your fault if you have not.”

They bickered happily over a late lunch, and settled to an afternoon of resting, for the evening was likely to be long and demanding. Haldir sat in one of the armchairs by the window, and Orophin sat at one end of the sofa opposite, while Rúmil stretched out with his head pillowed in Orophin’s lap. They had passed many a day, many an evening like this over the last year, sitting quietly, sometimes talking and sometimes not. Rúmil was thankful that Haldir had turned out to be so accepting, although he supposed that perhaps he should not be so surprised. Just as his and Orophin’s closeness had led to love, the closeness the three of them had shared, both Orophin and Rúmil with Haldir, seemed to have turned into an unbreakable bond of a different kind. They were brothers in blood and in arms, and nobody could come between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> gwanûr-nín: my brother
> 
> Kudos and comments are of course not obligatory, but every single one absolutely makes my day, so if you enjoy this story and leave one or the other (or both!), you will be making me very happy indeed and I thank you in advance from the bottom of my tired little heart. <3


	26. I Will Forsake All Others For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil and his brothers get ready for the great welcoming banquet, including some Significant Hairstyles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virtual cookies to anyone who spots the entirely inadvertent _Top Gun_ reference that I didn't even notice I'd written until I was reading this chapter over...

Eventually, as the sun sank lower in the sky, the three of them moved to get ready for the banquet. The bath houses would be busy, but Orophin had earlier fetched three ewers of water and set them one in each bedroom, each with a basin, so that they could at least wash before dressing in their fine new clothes. Haldir went first, and Orophin and Rúmil followed, though when Rúmil made to come with him, Orophin stilled him with a hand on his arm.

“I would have it be a surprise, meleth, when I see you in your robes. Then it will be even more special.”

“Besides,” came Haldir’s voice from his bedroom, “if you try getting ready together, we’ll not see you this side of Midsummer.”

“He has a point,” said Orophin. “Go on with you.” 

Rúmil considered pouting like an Elfling, but Orophin kissed him before he could manage to do so, and so he submitted, kissing him back and then going, obediently, to his room.

He did not bother to close the door behind him, but went over to the cabinet next to the bed, where Orophin had left the ewer of water and the basin. Stripping off his Galadhrim uniform, he quickly washed himself down and dried himself off with the nearest thing he could find, which happened to be the tunic he had just removed, then he moved to the bed, to unwrap Arwen’s gift again and for the first time unfold the clothing it contained. First was a tunic of deep, dark green silk, the colour of the mallorn leaves in summer, embroidered with trails of leaves in silver and gold, and then leggings of fine linen, a lighter green the colour of the new leaves that grew in late spring, and a soft undershirt of the same colour. There were long boots of soft leather, dark green like the tunic with silver thongs to lace them, and then, at the bottom of the packet, there was a neatly folded square of silk and velvet the grey-green of the undersides of the mallorn leaves that turned out, when Rúmil held it up, to be a long, open robe with long slits for arm-holes, and the most beautiful silver and gold embroidery trailing leaves and golden mallorn flowers up and down the length of the garment. A square of paper fluttered to the floor as he held the robe up before him, and he bent to pick it up, realising it was a note. 

“My dear friend Rúmil,” it said, “please accept this gift as a token of our friendship and of my thanks for your dancing lessons,” and it was signed with a scrolling letter A. He couldn’t help a smile, which turned to a soft laugh as he turned the paper over to find a postscript, which read, “You had better turn out to be a good dancer this evening, otherwise we are all in trouble.”

Setting the note aside, he began to dress, pulling on the leggings first and lacing them up, then sliding the undershirt and tunic over his head one after the other. The fabric was so fine and soft, so much more so than he was used to, and he thought he might never want to take them off. Turning his attention to the boots, he slid his feet into them and then laced them all the way up the back, criss-crossing the laces as he went. They reached almost to his knees, and he found that he rather liked the effect. 

Last, but very certainly not least, was the robe, and he carefully settled it over his shoulders, placing his arms through the holes, and took an experimental couple of steps. He was not used to such flowing clothes, for the Galadhrim normally wore nothing that would restrict their movements, but he found that the robe was close-fitting enough that it moved with him, and it was not long enough that he would tread on it, since it only came down to the middle of his calves. He turned, this way and then that, and noted that the robe swished rather satisfyingly; it was cut in a little at the waist, and then flared out a little, but not so much as to be voluminous. In truth, it was perfect, and he was not entirely sure how he was going to be able to thank Arwen for her thoughtfulness. 

Catching a movement in the living area, he turned to glance through the doorway and saw just a hint of blue; Orophin must already be out there. He made for the doorway and then stopped as Orophin turned towards him, his breath utterly stolen by the vision before him. Orophin’s outfit was similar in style to his, but the robe was cut slightly differently, emphasising his broad shoulders, and the embroidery appeared to signify ripples of water. Again, the tunic and boots were dark, almost midnight blue, and the leggings and undershirt were lighter, almost blue-grey, and then the robe was the colour of the sky just before dawn, pale grey with just a hint of blue, and all over the embroidery, silver waves and tiny golden stars. The robe fell around him to form a perfect frame for the tunic and the leggings, the fabric clinging closely to his form, especially the leggings, and the boots - Rúmil had to swallow hard, those tall boots and tight leggings on Orophin’s long, toned legs…he just wanted to peel all of it off him, right this moment, and spend the rest of the evening in bed…

“You look…” he trailed off, unable to find a word that would even come close to sufficing. Orophin smiled. 

“So do you, meleth. I haven’t the words.”

Haldir emerged last from his room, looking thoroughly regal in his red clothing, head up and shoulders back as though he already knew how magnificent he looked, although how he had managed that feat Rúmil did not know, for there was not a looking-glass in the talan. Again the dark tunic and boots, almost wine-coloured, leggings and undershirt of a muted red a few shades below scarlet, and then the robe was more muted still, like some of the wildflowers that grew beneath the trees. The embroidery, silver and gold again, took a more angular pattern, a little like some of the decoration Rúmil had seen in Imladris, and taken overall the effect was somewhat intimidating. 

“Valar, Haldir,” said Orophin, “you look - I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t encourage him,” said Rúmil, mischievously, although he was already imagining what the twins would have to say about it. 

“I don’t know what you’re implying, gwanûr-nín,” Haldir said, somewhat imperiously. “You’re going to have to do your hair, by the way, you can’t go to such a banquet wearing all that finery and still have your everyday braids in. Tonight calls for something much grander.”

“Have we got time?” Rúmil asked, and Haldir cast a glance out of the window. 

“The sun is not yet setting, so I would say you have. Besides, I need mine doing, too.”

A look passed between the three brothers, and Orophin fetched the chairs from around the table, setting them in a little circle. It had been hundreds of years since they had last braided each other’s hair, probably not since Rúmil had reached his majority, but the occasion seemed to lend itself to cooperation. Orophin went to fetch their brushes, and Haldir and Rúmil went to sit down. 

“I’ll do yours, Haldir, and you can do Orophin’s and Orophin, meleth, you can do mine,” said Rúmil. “But I want to finish Orophin’s off, so leave me a little to do, all right?”

Haldir nodded, and they set to unravelling the warrior braids each of them wore, and brushing out each other’s hair until it gleamed. 

“You’re very subtle, Rúmil,” said Haldir, undoing the last of Orophin’s braids. “You’ve put at least five lovers’ twists on each side here, and not a one of them visible to anyone who did not know to look for them.”

“Needs must, gwanûr-nín,” said Rúmil, and Haldir hummed in agreement.

“Don’t you go putting any in mine,” he said. “Dínendal would be sure to ask questions.”

“Don’t worry,” said Rúmil, laughing, “I wouldn’t dare.” He concentrated on braiding the sides of Haldir’s hair out of his face in a handful of little braids, then wove them together and caught them up at the back and pinned them out of the way, careful to leave a few strands at the front to frame his brother’s eyes. “How’s that?” he asked, and Haldir raised a hand to touch his hair, nodding in appreciation.

“Marvellous. Hannon-lle. And not a single one to raise Dínendal’s eyebrows when I see him after the feast.”

Orophin glanced up from his intent concentration on Rúmil’s hair. “I don’t remember the last time we had to do our hair anywhere near this ornately,” he said. “I’m rather enjoying it.”

Rúmil tried not to shift impatiently, now that Haldir’s hair was done and he had nothing to distract him. He was nervous about the banquet, but excited about seeing his friends again, and most of all he wanted to finish off Haldir’s handiwork in Orophin’s hair. Eventually Orophin declared himself satisfied, and Rúmil quickly ran his fingers over his head, finding a crown of tiny braids, twisted and intertwined; his eyes widened as he recognised the pattern. He had never seen it on anyone else, much less worn it himself, but he had heard of it; it was a style given to an Elf by the one who loved them best, worn for special occasions only, and almost exclusively - Rúmil caught his breath - for bondings. 

“Are you sure?” he whispered, turning to look at Orophin with his heart in his eyes, and Orophin nodded. 

“Not tonight, meleth, but - soon, perhaps,” he murmured, and leaned in to press a kiss to Rúmil’s forehead.

“Is it safe?” Rúmil could not help asking, and Orophin smiled. 

“I don’t care,” he said. “I want you to wear it for me.”

“You don’t have to tell anyone who gave it to you,” Haldir pointed out, with an indulgent smile. “Just maintain the Lady Arwen’s game about your secret sweetheart.”

Arwen had continued to tease Rúmil about his secret sweetheart over the last months, even though all concerned, except Niphredil, knew exactly who that person was, and it had actually turned out to be a good smokescreen; anyone who heard that he had a lover whose identity he would not divulge would be so busy trying to think of who that might be, that their suspicion would never fall upon the person closest to home.

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” said Rúmil, and Haldir chuckled. 

“Hearts are going to be breaking wide open all over Lórien tonight,” he said, “for Rúmil of the Galadhrim is appearing in public with his hair in a betrothal crown.”

“Not least poor little Niphredil’s,” said Orophin. “You’ll have to be extra nice to her to make up for it.”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Rúmil. “Poor child. She has had such a sad beginning to her life, I feel sorry for her. She deserves a little happiness. Even if she is somewhat too young to be finding her true love just yet.”

“Well, she does have the Lady Arwen on her side,” said Haldir, “and the Lady does provide for those she is fond of. Did she leave a note in your parcels too?”

“She did,” said Orophin, and Rúmil nodded. 

“I don’t know what you did to make her like us so, Rúmil,” said Haldir, “but whatever it was, I am glad you did it. Now, get on and finish Orophin’s hair, or we’ll be late.”

Rúmil did as he was told, finding that Haldir had hardly done anything, leaving the work of creating the braids to him. He had braided the top of Orophin’s hair so that it snaked down his back, and Rúmil swiftly did the sides and back, sweeping it all back and then upwards to form a knot on the back of Orophin’s head. It was not as overt as the style Orophin had given him, but it meant more or less the same - _I am beloved of one who will forsake all others for me_.

“Honestly,” said Haldir, “you two. We’re going to have to start a rumour about you as well, Orophin.”

Orophin reached up to feel his hair, his eyes widening and a delighted smile spreading across his face, his cheeks flushing just a little. “If I am honest, I do not know quite how I will be able to keep our secret tonight.”

“We will find a way,” said Rúmil. “And if need be, I am sure Arwen will not mind if we disappear a little early.”

“At which point I shall be ready with your respective rumours,” said Haldir. “Now come on, or we really will be late.”

They cascaded down the ladder in a flurry of silk and velvet, so different to their usual attire; Rúmil almost, but not quite, got tangled in his robe on the way down, but managed to remember to sweep it out of the way at the last minute. And then, walking side by side, they made their way to the palace for the great welcoming banquet for Lord Elrond and his household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> meleth: love  
> gwanûr-nín: my brother  
> hannon-lle: thank you
> 
> Kudos and comments are of course not obligatory, but every single one absolutely makes my day, so if you enjoy this story and leave one or the other (or both!), you will be making me very happy indeed and I thank you in advance from the bottom of my tired little heart. <3


	27. All The Stars From The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil and his brothers attend the banquet, and Haldir and Orophin meet the twins. Arwen appoints herself etiquette instructor, at a distance.

The clearing around the feet of the palace trees was filled with long trestle tables already beginning to fill with excited Elves; the whole city had been invited to the party, although only the most honoured would be dining in the great hall above with the dignitaries. Rúmil and his brothers, of course, counted among these hallowed individuals, if only for tonight, and as they ascended the stairs, Rúmil could not help pausing to look around. The stairways and windows always glowed with silver lights at night, but now there were more lights, festooned everywhere in the trees and draped across the clearing, as if all the stars had heard of the festivities and come down out of the sky to join in.

“It’s so beautiful,” he murmured, and was gratified to feel the pressure of Orophin’s hand at the small of his back, just for a moment. 

“So are you,” whispered Orophin in his ear, just as Haldir, somewhat more loudly, said, “So it is. And I’d wager the hall will look even more wonderful.”

Nudging both his brothers, Haldir continued up the stairs, still looking thoroughly magnificent, and Orophin and Rúmil followed obediently behind him, remembering their plan to remain in Haldir’s shadow, at least while they got used to the formality of the occasion.

A steward met them at the top of the stairs, and once they had given their names, directed them through to the great hall. Rúmil had been in this room only once or twice in his life, and he had certainly never seen it like this. Long tables ran the length of the room, groups of Elves already sitting on benches beside them, and then at the far end, on the dais, another table ran crosswise, with a row of high-backed chairs placed along it. Nobody was sitting there yet, and Rúmil bit back his disappointment; he would have felt more comfortable if he could have seen his friends, even at a distance, but he supposed that protocol dictated that the most important people did not appear until everyone else had found their seat. 

Another steward directed them to the far end of the leftmost table, and Rúmil realised that they would be sitting very close to the top table, which was something of a relief. He might not be able to talk to his friends, but at least they would be close by.

Taking a seat at the end of the bench that ran alongside the table, he looked around, drinking in the magnificent atmosphere. Lights were again festooned from the ceiling, wrapped around the branches that formed the walls and roof, all glowing with the light of Eärendil, Rúmil assumed; he had only ever heard legends about it, but unless the Lady had persuaded a whole forest’s worth of glow-worms to visit for the night, he had no other explanation for it.

Orophin sat opposite him at the end of the table, and Haldir next to Orophin. When they were seated, yet another steward appeared with a flagon of wine and poured some into the goblet that stood at each place setting; Rúmil took a deep draught, hoping it would settle his nerves, and found that although it was not quite as fine as the wine the twins had shared with him in Imladris, it was certainly much finer than any he had encountered anywhere else. 

“Sweet Elbereth,” murmured Orophin, sounding a little frantic, “just _look_ at everything. I hardly know where to put my eyes next.”

“Breathe,” said Haldir serenely. “Also, drink. I find that helps.”

Orophin took a mouthful of wine, and then another, looking as though his nerves were subsiding a little. Rúmil risked a brief touch of his foot to Orophin’s, then slid his toe up the back of Orophin’s calf a little way; the rich damask tablecloths would hide their movements from others’ eyes. Orophin shifted a little, trapping Rúmil’s foot between his calves, and they exchanged a glance across the table, before, out of nowhere, Rúmil found himself being attacked from behind by two very determined pairs of arms, wrapping themselves around his neck. Black hair floated in front of his vision, and he realised that here were the twins come to greet him after all, and protocol be damned.

“Rúmil, mellon-nín, we have missed you!” said one, shuffling Rúmil along so that he could perch on the end of the bench, and the other swung his leg over the bench and sat down on the other side of him. 

“We like your hair,” said this one, giving him a knowing smile and a nudge in the ribs, then they turned as one to greet Rúmil’s brothers across the table, hands on hearts.

“We are so pleased to be here at last, and to meet you properly,” they said in unison, and Rúmil smiled as his brothers’ eyebrows went up; well, it _was_ uncanny, the first few times you heard it, he supposed.

“You must be Orophin,” said the twin on the end of the bench, “and we already know Haldir,” said the other. Rúmil was not entirely sure, but he thought that the one on the end was Elrohir and the other was Elladan.

“It is our honour to meet you,” said Haldir smoothly, hand on heart and head inclined, and Orophin echoed his brother’s movement, seemingly content to let Haldir do the talking. 

“We cannot stay long,” said the twin on the end of the bench, “for soon we will have to go and sit at the top table and behave ourselves, but we could not resist coming to say hello.”

“Besides, when we saw your hair,” said the other twin, with an almost imperceptible glance first at Rúmil and then at Orophin, “we simply had to come and congratulate you.”

Rúmil felt the beginnings of a blush beginning to heat his face, and he felt Orophin’s legs tensing either side of his foot, holding it very firmly in place. Rúmil dared a glance at his beloved and saw that he was looking intently at his goblet, but colour stained his cheekbones and he was smiling.

“Don’t worry,” said the twin on the end of the bench, and now Rúmil knew that this was Elrohir, and the other was Elladan. “We are the souls of discretion, despite all appearances. And we are so very happy for you both.”

“That we are,” said the other twin - Elladan. Tilting his head, as though listening to something nobody else could hear, he cast a glance at his brother. “And now we must go and pretend to care about protocol and ceremony. I can feel Nana’s tension from here.” 

The twins stood in unison, hands on hearts again. “We must take our leave of you for now,” said Elrohir, “but as soon as we are allowed, we shall be back. We have much to talk about, and we wish to get to know you,” he inclined his head at Haldir and Orophin, who nodded, and then the pair of them were gone, disappearing through a door at the back of the hall.

“Well,” said Rúmil after a moment, suppressing a giggle at the thunderstruck expressions on his brothers’ faces, “now you’ve met the twins.”

Haldir recovered his composure first, of course. “They are very - “ he began, but Orophin cut him off.

“Terrifying,” he said, shaking his head. “I felt as though they were looking directly into my soul.”

“They do rather have that effect the first few times you meet them,” said Rúmil, “but I promise their intentions are good.”

He was saved from having to explain any further to his distinctly sceptical-looking brothers by the soft sound of a gong, and all conversation ceased, all eyes turning to the end of the hall. The door through which the twins had disappeared now opened again, and Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn entered, both draped in robes of ivory and silver, followed by Lord Elrond in deep red and Lady Celebrían in blue. Behind them came Arwen in dove grey and rose, flanked by her brothers who, Rúmil now noted, were wearing robes the colour of iron and sapphire. Behind them came Lord Glorfindel in gold and green and Master Erestor in black, and then the various members of the household, including little Niphredil in lavender; Rúmil caught her eye as she passed and sent her a smile, for she looked most dreadfully nervous. She lowered her eyes and blushed, but she did manage to smile in return, and Rúmil nodded, winking at her as she sat down near the end of the high table closest to him. 

The dignitaries, of course, sat at the centre of the table, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn in the middle, with Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían on the far side of them and Arwen and the twins on the side closest to Rúmil and his brothers; Glorfindel and Erestor went to sit on the far side of Lady Celebrían, and the members of the household distributed themselves according to their station, Rúmil assumed. 

The gong sounded again, and instantly a host of stewards appeared bearing the first course. They served the high table first, of course, and then made their way down the long tables from top to bottom, and Rúmil looked curiously at the plate set before him. It appeared to be some sort of fruit, but not one with which he was familiar; glancing at the array of cutlery surrounding his plate he realised he had not the first idea which implement to use, and a glance at his brothers told him that they had the same dilemma.

“Just watch everyone else,” murmured Haldir, “and do what they do, and for the Valar’s sake keep your mouth closed and don’t gape at the top table.”

Orophin, who had been doing more or less exactly that, shut his mouth with a snap and all three of them surreptitiously glanced around, until Rúmil saw that Arwen seemed to be determinedly but subtly attempting to attract his attention. She picked up one of the utensils beside her plate and began to cut delicately but deliberately into the fruit, and Rúmil could not help smiling. 

“I think the Lady Arwen has appointed herself our etiquette instructor,” he murmured, casting a glance at the top table and following her lead. Orophin and Haldir followed suit, all of them conscious that they would have a great many reasons to thank Arwen later, when they finally had a chance to talk to her.

Course followed course, every one of them delicious and completely unfamiliar to Rúmil and his brothers. The stewards whisked plates away and replaced them almost before they could put their cutlery down, and their goblets were kept brimming full of wine, so that by the time the meal was almost over - there had been at least ten courses already, by Rúmil’s reckoning, so surely there could not be too many more - all three of them had relaxed a little, guided at a distance by Arwen’s subtle performance showing them how to eat each dish without disgracing themselves. Savoury courses alternated with sweet, delicate flavours contrasted with spicier ones, and Rúmil was sure that he had never tasted such a bewildering array of different things. He was grateful for the wine, for without its calming influence he was certain that he would long since have succumbed to his nerves.

Eventually - finally, Rúmil could not help thinking, the stewards removed the last plates and did not bring more to replace them, and the gong sounded softly again. Lady Galadriel rose to her feet, and the whole hall fell silent. 

“Thank you, my friends, that you have joined us upon this most joyous of occasions,” she said, her voice soft but still carrying to every corner of the room. “We have eaten and drunk together, and now we shall dance together. Please join us below, in the clearing, so that we may continue our celebrations.”

All at the top table then rose, and filed out of the hall in the same order in which they had entered, processing between the long tables to the main staircase. Glancing around, Rúmil saw that everyone else was getting to their feet as the Lady and the Lord passed, and he and his brothers did the same, moving to follow as the Elves surrounding them turned to follow the dignitaries. Others were taking their wine goblets with them, so Rúmil picked his up and motioned to his brothers that they should do the same, taking a surreptitious sip as they joined the procession; he was suddenly nervous all over again, Arwen’s warning about hoping he was truly a good dancer ringing in his ears, because he was really not entirely sure that he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**  
>  (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> mellon-nín: my friend  
> nana: mother (informal)
> 
> Kudos and comments are of course not obligatory, but every single one absolutely makes my day, so if you enjoy this story and leave one or the other (or both!), you will be making me very happy indeed and I thank you in advance from the bottom of my tired little heart. <3


	28. A Toast To The Bonds Of Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the feast, the dancing. And the socialising.

The tables had been moved back to the edge of the clearing and a wide area for dancing had been cleared. A group of musicians sat off to one side, and a low dais had been set up with chairs for the grandees, and little groups of chairs and small tables were scattered around for everyone else. The Lady Galadriel paused at the foot of the steps, spread her arms wide, and declared in a voice that rang like a bell, “Now I proclaim, let the festivities truly begin!”

The musicians struck up a merry tune and a few Elves ventured into the dancing area almost straight away, while the dignitaries made for the dais - well, almost all of them. Apparently sensing that they had been dismissed, the twins detached themselves from their family and doubled back, coming up the steps to meet Rúmil and his brothers coming down. 

“Now we may truly enjoy ourselves,” declared one of them, and, “Come on, let us secure a table before they are all taken by others,” said the other, ushering the three of them the rest of the way down the stairs and over to a table on the edge of the clearing. One of them snagged a flagon of wine from a steward on the way, and was topping up everyone’s goblets almost before they had had a chance to sit down.

“You look quite wonderful,” one of them - Elrohir? - said. 

“Arwen said she had sent you gifts,” said the other, “but she wouldn’t say anything beyond that she thought they would suit each of you very well indeed, and she was right. Haldir, you look as though you should have a promotion, for you do not look at all like a Marchwarden.”

Rúmil watched as Haldir sat up even straighter than he had been sitting, and then as his mouth opened a little, realising that there was more than one layer of meaning in the twin’s words. 

“Shut up, Elladan,” said the other, and Rúmil was relieved to realise that he had guessed their identities correctly. “Do please excuse my brother, and allow me to introduce us properly. I am Elrohir, and this insolent creature is my brother Elladan.”

Haldir recovered his composure admirably quickly, Rúmil thought, introducing himself without even a hint of his momentary consternation, and Orophin followed suit; thanks to the wine, he seemed much more relaxed now, and he did not seem to be regarding the twins with anything approaching suspicion. Perhaps the conversation he had had with Arwen truly had set his mind at rest, thought Rúmil.

“It is our pleasure to meet you,” said Elladan, and raised his goblet. “I should like to propose a toast, to the bonds of brothers and, of course, to true love always winning out in the end.”

Rúmil could not help glancing round to see if anyone had heard, but nobody seemed to have so much as noticed, so he decided to set his worries aside and simply enjoy the evening. “I’ll drink to that,” he said, and he raised his goblet alongside Elladan’s, waiting for the others to follow suit. Five goblets clinked together and they all drank deeply.

“Now, Rúmil,” said Elladan, when they had all come up for air, “you must tell us absolutely everything that has happened since last we saw you.”

“I am not sure I want to tell you _everything_ ,” Rúmil demurred, “for there are some things I would rather share only with my beloved.”

“Don’t listen to him, Rúmil, you know how he loves to tease,” said Elrohir. “We were so glad to receive your letter, when it arrived with the missive from our sister.”

“Although, perhaps, a little disappointed that we would not be able to tempt you away to come and join the guard in Imladris,” said Elladan, with a wicked grin, and Rúmil was about to reply when Orophin spoke up.

“I am sorry to deprive you, my lords,” he said, “but as it turns out, we really cannot spare him from Lórien. But surely you have guards enough in Imladris, without needing to come here and poach ours?” He tempered his words with a smile, and both twins laughed.

“Aye, we do, at that,” said Elladan, “but none of them are quite as fine as Rúmil here. Or the two of you, come to that. Are you sure you wouldn’t all like to come and live in the Valley of the Bruinen?”

“Stop trying to steal my friends, gwanûr-nín,” came Arwen’s voice, merry with laughter, as she approached the table. “I find that I am completely unable to spare a single one of them, and I am most certainly not the only one.”

Rúmil made to offer her his seat, but before he could quite get up, Arwen had settled herself on Elrohir’s lap and was smiling beatifically upon all of them. 

“How do you like your robes?” she asked, and Rúmil and his brothers fell over themselves to thank her, all of them quite conscious that they would have felt a hundred times more awkward if they had had to wear the clothes they had discovered at home instead of Arwen’s beautifully thought-out gifts.

“Truly, my lady, they are so much finer than we deserve,” said Orophin, and Arwen shook her head with a gentle laugh. 

“They are not nearly fine enough,” she said, “for you have all three of you proven yourselves more than valuable friends to me, and your instruction in dancing has been most welcome.”

“Ah yes, the dancing lessons,” said Elrohir. “I trust they have been going well? There was only so much we could practise before you had to leave, gwathel-nín.”

“Very well indeed,” Arwen said. “I am becoming much more skilled.”

“Marvellous,” said Elladan. “We shall have to arrange for a lesson or two while we are here, if your dancing partners are available.”

“It would be our honour, my lords,” said Haldir, and both twins rolled their eyes.

“For the love of Ilúvatar, use our names, will you?” Elladan burst out. “We are not your lords, nor are we your superiors. We would be your friends, if you would let us.”

“Please, stand not so much upon ceremony,” said Elrohir a little more gently. “As my brother says, we wish only to be your friends. As I understand it, you manage to call our sister by her name, so please, may we ask that you extend the same honour to us?”

Haldir and Orophin looked at each other, and then nodded. “We will do our best,” said Orophin. “And we owe you a debt of thanks, for your care of Rúmil while he was in Imladris.” He paused, as if gathering his courage. “I am particularly grateful, for you sent him back to me with the peace in his heart that he so sorely needed.”

The twins inclined their heads in unison. “It was our pleasure,” said Elrohir sincerely. “We could not leave him in despair when we held the knowledge that could reassure him.”

“Besides,” said Elladan, “it would have been sacrilege to allow that lovely face to look sad for a moment longer than absolutely necessary. He is so much prettier when he smiles.”

Rúmil blushed scarlet, and watched as Orophin decided whether to take Elladan’s words as a challenge; thankfully he only smiled.

“He is, at that,” Orophin said, “and he smiles much more these days. So I thank you, both of you.”

“Oh, I’m sure those smiles are thanks to _you_ , mellon-nín,” said Elladan wickedly, and now it was Orophin’s turn to blush.

“Will you behave yourself?” scolded Arwen gently, turning in Elrohir’s lap and reaching out to slap Elladan’s hand. 

“Oh, but Arwen, I do hate to see good deeds go uncredited,” said Elladan, but he subsided anyway, and the conversation fell to other matters. 

After a while, Arwen leaned over to engage Rúmil’s attention. “Do you truly like the clothes I sent you?” she asked, sounding a little anxious. “I did not want to offend you, or trespass upon your privacy, but I did so want to express my thanks to the three of you, and I thought perhaps something for each of you to wear tonight might go some way towards achieving that aim.”

Rúmil smiled. “They are perfect, and we all three of us thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your kindness. We did not look for such reward, but truth be told, we had very few items of clothing at home that would have been suitable for an event such as this.”

“I did wonder about that,” said Arwen. “I have only ever seen you in your uniform, or your plain tunics and leggings which might just as well be your uniform, they are so similar. I wanted so much for you to enjoy yourselves tonight, and I thought that perhaps if I could help you to step a little outside what you are accustomed to, it might help a little.” She cast a glance at Rúmil’s hair, and then at Orophin’s. “It seems that it did the trick, at that.”

Rúmil followed her gaze and smiled warmly. “That it did. I had not even realised he was doing it until he was finished, and then - well. How could I not do the same for him?”

“Do you think you might - ?” Arwen did not finish her question, but Rúmil understood her meaning. 

“I think perhaps we may,” he said softly, watching as Orophin talked animatedly with the twins and Haldir. “I certainly wish for nothing else, and no other could ever take his place in my heart.”

“Then I am pleased beyond words for you,” said Arwen, placing her hand upon his arm. “And that reminds me that I wanted to speak to you a little about Niphredil.”

Rúmil’s heart sank a little. “How may I help you with her?” he asked tentatively.

“Oh, do not worry,” said Arwen, “I merely wished to thank you for your gentle treatment of her. You have never treated her like a servant or a burden or a nuisance; you have seen her for who she is and treated her like a friend. I am grateful to you for it.”

“I am glad, my lady,” said Rúmil. “She is a delightful lass, and I hope that she never again has cause to feel such sadness as that which she felt before she came to you.”

“I hope that also,” said Arwen. “She is a good girl, and though she is still often very melancholy, she is beginning to make her way out from under the cloud of her sadness. And I think you are helping her in that regard.”

“Me?” said Rúmil, surprised. “How?”

“Well,” said Arwen, “I think you are aware that she holds something of a light for you.”

“I had noticed,” said Rúmil. “And I have tried not to give her even the faintest hint of false hope, for I do not wish to be cruel, but I also do not wish to ignore her or upset her.”

“You are so good to her,” said Arwen. “She is, of course, quite infatuated with you, but I think it will be good for her to get those feelings out of the way when she is young, and to have them for someone who will neither reciprocate them nor take advantage of them. She knows you have a sweetheart, and she knows nothing can come of her infatuation. But I think it is good for her to feel it, so that when real love assails her, she will know the difference. And besides, it is making her happy even though she knows there is no hope that you might love her.” 

“I suppose you are right,” said Rúmil, feeling a little self-conscious. “Do you wish me to speak with her?”

“Only if you think it necessary,” said Arwen. “But you might favour her with a dance this evening, before she is sent to bed with the other Elflings.”

Rúmil grinned. “She did say this morning, when she delivered your gifts, that she was sure she would be sent to bed before the fun began.”

“Did she really?” chuckled Arwen. “She is finding her feet with you at last, I think. Well, we must show her that she will not miss absolutely all of the fun. First, I think we must find out, you and I, whether you are as good a dancer as I have been telling my Naneth that you are, and then perhaps you will treat little Niphredil to your skills.” She slipped off Elrohir’s lap and held out her hand to Rúmil, pulling him to his feet. “I am just stealing Rúmil away from you,” she said, addressing both her brothers and Rúmil’s, although she was looking at Orophin as she spoke. “But I promise I will return him to you unharmed before too long.” And then she was pulling him by the hand into the middle of the dancers, before he had time to worry about what the Lady Celebrían might think of his talent - or otherwise - at dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> gwanûr-nín: my brother  
> gwathel-nín: my sister  
> mellon-nín: my friend  
> naneth: mother (formal)
> 
> Kudos and comments are of course not obligatory, but every single one absolutely makes my day, so if you enjoy this story and leave one or the other (or both!), you will be making me very happy indeed and I thank you in advance from the bottom of my tired little heart. <3


	29. Precious Beyond Measure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil dances with Arwen, and with Niphredil, and ensures that he and Niphredil are on the same page about things. And he runs into Galadriel.

Luckily the musicians were playing a familiar tune, and Rúmil knew the steps of this dance, so he bowed to Arwen and took her hands, and then they swung into the familiar motions, almost, but not quite, like the dance of the blades they had practised together so often.

“I think you will be safe from my mother,” teased Arwen as they swayed and spun under the lights. “You really are quite good at this.”

“I am very relieved you think so, my lady,” said Rúmil, grinning. “I would hate for her to forbid you from practising with us because I turned out not to be such a good instructor after all.”

Arwen laughed, and they danced on, finding themselves close to the edge of the clearing when the music stopped, the musicians taking a short break to quench their thirst. Rúmil spotted Niphredil sitting on her own a little way away, looking despondent, and he tapped Arwen on the arm, nodding towards the little maiden. 

“Do you think I should offer her that dance?” he asked, and Arwen smiled.

“I think you should,” she said. “Treat her kindly, always be clear with her, and you will have a friend for life in her. Go on with you. I shall go and see which of my brothers - or yours - will partner me next.” And with that she was gone, vanished into the crowd, leaving Rúmil to approach Niphredil. 

She looked up as he neared her, and for a moment it was clear that she did not recognise him. Smiling, he placed his hand over his heart and inclined his head to her. “Lady Niphredil, would you do me the honour of partnering me for a dance?” he asked, and her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes impossibly wide as she put two and two together and realised who he was.

“Oh!” she said, “sir, I did not recognise you! Although I should have done, for I know the clothes you are wearing.” She blushed, and Rúmil smiled again.

“They are very fine, are they not? Your lady is more generous than we deserve.” Offering her his hand, he gently pulled her to her feet, guiding her into the dancers, reasoning that she might feel less self-conscious if she could feel as though she were not being watched.

“Truly, she is most gracious,” said Niphredil as the music began again, a slower tune this time, and a more formal dance, but again reminiscent of the blade dances he and his brothers had been practising with Arwen. 

“She is, at that,” Rúmil agreed. “And she cares very greatly for you, pen-neth. She would not see you hurt, and neither would I.”

Niphredil’s cheeks were scarlet by now, and she was looking at the floor rather than concentrating on the dance, and Rúmil very gently placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face up. 

“I am sure you know, pen-neth, that you must focus upon your partner in a dance like this,” he said gently, “and I would be sure that you understand what I am going to say to you. Can you bear to look upon me for a few moments more?”

Niphredil nodded, apparently unable to speak, and Rúmil continued.

“I would not see you hurt, Niphredil. I think you know that my heart is spoken for, but I can promise you that if you are patient, you will find an ellon or an elleth who is truly worthy of you, and if you ever have need of a friend or confidant, you need only send word to me. Do you understand?”

She nodded again. “You weren’t supposed to know,” she burst out, and Rúmil could not help the laugh that escaped him at that, although he quickly smothered it when he saw how stricken Niphredil looked.

“I am sorry, my lady, that was rude of me. I am afraid you were not so good at hiding your feelings as you thought you were. No ill has come of it - truly, I am most flattered. But as you can see, my heart is given elsewhere and I cannot give it to you. I know what it feels like to love one who cannot love you back, and I would not wish that upon you. Let whatever you feel for me turn to friendship, and then your heart will be open for whoever it might be who comes to claim it in times to come.”

Niphredil glanced up at his hair, and nodded yet again, still looking somewhat stricken. “I know you have a sweetheart, sir, and I know I am far too young. But you are so…” she trailed off, not quite able to finish the thought, changing direction instead, “…and it is so wretched waiting to grow up and be allowed to do things!”

“Now that I do remember,” said Rúmil with a smile. “But you are here, now, are you not? And if you must go to bed before the evening is over, well, I do not think you will be missing much, except a lot of Elves who should know better drinking far too much wine and making fools of themselves. Lady Arwen will tell you all about it on the morrow.”

“I suppose so,” she said with a mutinous expression, and Rúmil grinned at this new expression of the personality hiding behind the shyness. Niphredil, Rúmil suspected, was going to grow up to become something of a spitfire.

“You will see,” he said. “And by the way, please, do not feel you must call me ‘sir’ all the time, it makes me feel most uncomfortable and grown up. My name is Rúmil, and it would make me happy if you would use it.”

“Oh - a-all right, if you wish it, s-Rúmil,” she stammered out, and covered her mouth with her hand, scarlet-cheeked again. 

“There,” said a voice from behind them, “that was not so difficult, was it, Niphredil?" and there was Arwen, partnered with Elrohir, both of them smiling with deep affection in their eyes. 

“M-my lord Elrohir!” burst out Niphredil, and Elrohir laughed, stepping forward to sweep her up into a hug. 

“Sorry, Rúmil, to steal your dancing partner away like this,” he said, “but it has been long and long since I have seen this little one, and now she is so grown-up I barely recognise her! And you, pen-neth, since you have just had a lesson in using the names people ask you to use, have you forgotten that we said long ago that you should use our names as well, my brother’s and mine?” He set Niphredil down again, and she shook her head. 

“I am sorry, Elrohir. Is my lo-is Elladan here too?” 

“Of course I am,” came an amused voice as Elladan strode through the crowd, followed by Orophin and Haldir. “You know my brother and I never go anywhere without each other, pen-neth.” And he, too, swept Niphredil up into a hug, making her giggle delightedly. 

“Did you let her down gently?” Orophin murmured in Rúmil’s ear. 

“I did,” he murmured back. “I have told her that I will be her friend if she will have me, though, and that she should use my name and stop calling me ‘sir’. So we shall see.”

“I suppose we shall,” said Orophin, and Haldir leaned in to enquire whether Rúmil had acquitted himself satisfactorily in the dancing. 

“I think I did,” he said, “or at least, Arwen seems to think that I did, so I think we are safe.”

“Come, let us sit for a while,” said Elladan then, “and drink a little more wine, and talk. Niphredil may stay up for a little longer, may she not, gwathel-nín? I want to hear all about what she has been doing.”

“For a little while,” said Arwen. “As long as you two promise to behave yourselves.”

“We will be the souls of propriety,” said Elrohir, “as we always are.”

“No, you are not,” Arwen rejoined firmly, “but if you will at least pretend for a little while, Niphredil may sit with us.”

“Thank you, my lady,” said Niphredil, and they all made their way back to the table they had shared. There were no more spare chairs to be claimed, and so Arwen settled back on Elrohir’s lap, and Niphredil sat upon Elladan’s. More wine was poured, and they settled to quiet conversation, Elladan occasionally letting Niphredil have a taste of his wine, when he thought Arwen was not looking.

“She is like another little sister to us,” explained Elrohir to Rúmil and Orophin, who had found themselves sitting next to each other this time, while Haldir spoke with Elladan and Niphredil. “We found her when she was tiny, little more than a baby, and it has been our pleasure to help bring her up.”

“She is a delightful young lady,” Rúmil said, and Orophin chuckled softly. 

“She likes Rúmil very much,” he said, and Rúmil shook his head with a smile. 

“I shall be a friend to her, and that is what I have told her,” he said firmly. “I would not see her hurt.”

“Good,” said Elrohir. “Then we are of one mind where she is concerned.”

“We are,” Rúmil agreed. 

“We are also of one mind where you two are concerned,” said Arwen very softly, smiling. “What you share is precious beyond measure, and we will protect it with all the power in our possession.”

Rúmil looked at Orophin, feeling all of a sudden as though he were completely surrounded with love, cocooned, protected, _safe_.

“Thank you,” said Orophin after a moment. “If there is ever any way we may serve you, however small our power might be, you need only ask.”

“Keep our secret for us,” said Elrohir. “Which you are already doing, I trust, but truly, we ask no more of you than that - and your friendship.” He raised his goblet, and Arwen, Orophin and Rúmil touched their cups to his. A pledge, of sorts, Rúmil thought, and he felt oddly as though his family had just expanded by three - or four, if one counted Niphredil; it had doubled in size in less than a minute. Rúmil’s heart was full; he had never expected this, but now it felt like the most simple, natural thing in the world.

Later - much later - Niphredil had been sent to bed and the conversation had turned to more grown-up subjects, and Rúmil discovered that the flagon of wine was empty. Going in search of another, he wove his way through the crowds, not really paying attention to who he passed, until a soft voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Rúmil.” 

He started, and turned to see the Lady Galadriel standing not three feet away from him, an enigmatic smile upon her lips. 

“My Lady,” he said, saluting her, keeping his head inclined, for he had only ever been in the Lady’s presence a few times in his life, and he was, truth be told, absolutely terrified of her. The only time she had ever spoken to him before had been when he had taken his vows as a Galadhrim.

“You find yourself in a most happy situation, do you not?” she said, and when Rúmil did not answer straight away, being too busy trying to work out what she meant and what she might have noticed, she laughed very softly. “Your hair,” she murmured. 

“Oh,” said Rúmil, feeling stupid. “I - yes, my Lady, I do. But I am not at liberty to say any more.”

The Lady laughed again. “I know, pen-neth. But it is no small thing, to capture a heart and to have one’s own heart captured in return. None may gainsay it, and you may be certain that I will not.”

Rúmil looked up at her, and had the distinct and uncomfortable sensation that she was looking directly into his soul. “Thank you, my Lady,” he whispered, and she smiled, leaning forward to brush a kiss across his forehead. 

“Go, with my blessing,” she murmured. “And tell Orophin, too, that he need have no fear. You are mine, and you are safe here.”

Rúmil swallowed, finding that his mouth was dry. “I will, my Lady,” he stammered, and then she was gone, as suddenly as she had appeared. He almost wondered if he had imagined her, but he could still feel the soft brush of her lips on his forehead and he thought, no, that was real.

Pulling himself together, he went to fetch the wine, and returned to the table, feeling thoroughly shaken.

“What’s the matter with you?” demanded Elladan. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No,” said Rúmil, “I met the Lady Galadriel, and she…” he set the flagon upon the table and sat down heavily in his seat. “She gave me - us - her blessing,” he said, reaching out to curl his fingers around Orophin’s for a second; consequences be damned, he needed to touch him. “She said that - she said that we are hers, and we are safe here.”

Elrohir refilled Rúmil’s and Orophin’s goblets first, and pressed them into their hands. ‘Here. Drink. Is that the first time you have spoken to her?”

“Other than the day I took my vows of service, yes,” said Rúmil, taking a long mouthful of wine and willing his hands to stop shaking.

“Then I am not surprised that you are feeling a little out of sorts,” said Arwen, who had found herself a chair of her own while Rúmil had been gone.

“She does rather have that effect on people,” said Elladan. “Like Glorfindel, only more so.”

“She _knew_ ,” said Rúmil. “I could have had my hair in my ordinary braids and she would have known. I didn’t need to say a word, she just _knew_. I thought we had been so careful.”

“The thing you need to learn about our grandmother,” said Elrohir, “is that you don’t need to tell her things for her to know them. She sees them, and not just the things that others can see.”

“She reads hearts,” said Elladan. “As easily as you or I would read a book. There is no use trying to keep secrets from her. We didn’t tell you before because we knew it would frighten you too much.”

“You would never have spoken to Orophin, and you would have continued to carry it all in your heart alone,” said Elrohir. 

“But still, we ought perhaps to have warned you,” said Arwen after a moment. “Although as you have seen, she is no enemy to you. You are safe here, and you are safe with us.”

“And with me,” said Haldir. “I hope you know that by now.”

Rúmil could not speak, but Orophin squeezed his fingers and spoke for both of them. “We know. Truly, it is a weight lifted from both our minds. And to know that we have the Lady’s blessing, that is something we had not looked for.”

“You should consider yourselves thoroughly embraced,” said Elladan. “We really are one family now.”

“Does she know your secret, and keep it for you?” whispered Rúmil.

“Of course she does,” said Elrohir. 

“That’s what I meant,” said Elladan. 

“Let us drink to families,” said Arwen, then, “and to keeping each other’s secrets.” 

Six goblets were brought together, and six Elves drank to a new way of things, all of them together under the protection of the Lady of the Golden Wood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> pen-neth: little one (literally: young one)  
> ellon: male Elf  
> elleth: female Elf  
> gwathel-nín: my sister
> 
> Kudos and comments are of course not obligatory, but every single one absolutely makes my day, so if you enjoy this story and leave one or the other (or both!), you will be making me very happy indeed and I thank you in advance from the bottom of my tired little heart. <3


	30. Forsaking All Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is very tired at the end of the festivities. The following morning, Rúmil and Orophin are somewhat less tired, and also find themselves accidentally - sorry, unexpectedly - making some vows to each other.

The festivities went on deep into the night, and a great deal of wine was drunk by all concerned. More than once one or other of the twins persuaded one or more of the others back up for another dance, and another, until Arwen begged to be excused and Rúmil realised that he was almost asleep on his feet. 

“Weaklings,” proclaimed Elladan, a little unsteadily, but ruined the effect by having to break into a particularly impressive yawn. 

“’S been a long day,” said Elrohir, yawning too. “I can’t remember where we broke camp, but we rode a _looooong_ way before we got here. And then we had to listen to Ada making nice with our grandparents, and then we had to behave ourselves all dinner time, and _then_ we came down here and drank…” he trailed off, counting on his fingers, “…approximately eleventy-one flagons of wine, _and_ we danced, so I don’t know about you, meleth-nín, but I too am ready for my bed.”

Instinctively, Rúmil glanced around at Elrohir’s use of the endearment, but nobody was near, or at least, nobody who was awake enough to parse the conversation and draw any unwelcome conclusions.

“Fine,” said Elladan, yawning again. “I suppose I _am_ ready for my bed. Or yours.” He grinned wickedly, and Elrohir shook his head, pulling his twin into a hug.

“No funny business, meleth,” he said. “I am far too tired. Come on. We can continue this delightful conversation tomorrow, whatever it was we were talking about, I can’t now remember.”

“All right,” said Elladan. “Come on, Arwen, we’ll walk you to your room.”

“If you can find it,” said Arwen. “I _am_ the one of us who lives here, remember? Now, let us take our leave of our friends, and we shall meet again on the morrow, or as soon as we can. You all owe me and Hadhafang a lesson, after all.” She moved to embrace Rúmil and his brothers, followed by the twins, and they all said their goodnights. Then Arwen and her brothers made for the palace steps, and Rúmil, Orophin and Haldir began to make their somewhat weary way home.

“That was a great deal of fun,” said Haldir as they meandered along the pathways back to their talan. “More so than I was expecting.”

“It was wonderful,” said Orophin. “I wish we never had to go home.” He reached out to tuck one arm through Rúmil’s, and the other through Haldir’s, and they continued arm-in-arm until they reached the foot of the mallorn where they lived.

Haldir went straight to his room, and Orophin and Rúmil drifted into Rúmil’s by some unspoken consensus. The last of the moonlight was dappling patterns on the floor, and Rúmil yawned.

“I am so tired,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired in all my life.”

“Tired, but happy?” said Orophin, smoothing his hands over Rúmil’s shoulders and down his arms, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

“Very happy,” Rúmil murmured, slipping one hand round to cradle the back of Orophin’s head and drawing him in for a kiss. “So happy, I hardly have the words to tell you. And oh, I do so love these clothes. They feel so wonderfully soft against my skin and they fit so well, and I never want to take them off.”

“Not even for me?” whispered Orophin, cupping Rúmil’s face in his hands and slipping his little fingers just inside the neck of Rúmil’s tunic, stroking gently and making Rúmil shiver. 

“I…oh, well, yes, perhaps for you,” he said, “but only for you.”

“I hoped you would say that,” said Orophin softly, kissing him again. “Now, will you let me get you out of these beautiful clothes so that we may sleep?”

“Mmmh, maybe,” said Rúmil around another yawn, and Orophin chuckled. 

“I think you had better let me, or you will fall asleep standing up.” And he carefully eased the robe off Rúmil’s shoulders, folding it and setting it upon the chest under the window. Next was the tunic, unbuttoned and lifted gently over Rúmil’s head, and the boots, unlaced and eased off his feet, Orophin’s hands following every garment with long, stroking motions that made Rúmil shiver again and wish that he were not quite so dreadfully exhausted. Last were the leggings, and Orophin paused at the fastenings, just for a moment.

“Don’t,” whispered Rúmil, “or I shall forget how tired I am and then neither of us will get any sleep at all. Just undo them, I can’t bear the waiting.”

“I am sorry, meleth,” said Orophin, obediently unlacing the leggings and slipping them down over Rúmil’s hips, down to pool on the floor around his feet. Rúmil kicked them off, and Orophin leaned down to pick them up and fold them. 

“You’re so neat,” said Rúmil; he himself would probably have just left everything where it fell, no matter that these were so much finer than all the rest of his clothes.

“Clothing like this deserves to be treated with respect,” said Orophin, a laugh in his voice, for he knew exactly what Rúmil was thinking. “Did you know, Arwen told me that she and Niphredil did the embroidery themselves?”

“No,” said Rúmil, shaking his head, “she didn’t say. That only makes the gift more precious.”

“And even less deserving of being left on your bedroom floor,” said Orophin, and Rúmil moved to kiss him and shut him up.

“Your turn,” he said, undressing Orophin as Orophin had undressed him, trying his best to keep his touches light, not teasing or arousing. He carefully folded each garment and placed them in a pile on the chest next to his own, and Orophin really did laugh at that.

“I’m amazed you know how to do that, meleth-nín,” he said, and Rúmil snorted. 

“Never underestimate me,” he said, and just for revenge he leaned in to press a kiss to Orophin’s hipbone as he knelt to undo his boots. 

“Don’t, or I shall forget how tired I am,” said Orophin, echoing Rúmil’s earlier declaration, and Rúmil looked up at him entirely unrepentantly. 

“Fine. But after we have slept…” he trailed off, grinning sharply, and went back to unlacing Orophin’s boots and gently easing them off his feet.

“After we have slept,” echoed Orophin, his voice dark with desire, and Rúmil shivered yet again.

“Perhaps we should have stolen away from the party earlier,” he said, nimble fingers unlacing Orophin’s leggings, unable to keep himself from brushing against him, just the slightest bit.

Orophin hissed, and drew in a deep breath. “Perhaps we should. But then, we did have a most delightful time, and would you have wanted to miss it?”

“If it meant I could steal away here, with you, and we could have our way with each other?” Rúmil took Orophin’s leggings and folded them onto the top of the pile of clothes, considering the question. “It is difficult to decide. But I did have a wonderful evening.”

“As did I,” said Orophin. “I understand now, about the twins. I am not afraid of them any more, for I can see that Arwen was right when she said that they only have eyes for each other.”

“I am glad,” said Rúmil, sliding his arms around Orophin, leaning in for a kiss. “Because I only have eyes for you, and even if the twins were ten times as beautiful and twenty times as alluring, I would still only ever want you.”

“Then that is settled,” said Orophin, stifling a yawn. “Now, let us sleep, and in the morning…” he trailed off, and Rúmil grinned.

“In the morning, I am going to show you exactly how beautiful you were tonight,” he said. “I am going to undo every last one of your braids and I am going to brush your hair, and then I am going to watch how it spreads out upon the pillow as I make love to you.”

Orophin caught his breath. “Then I am going to go to sleep now, so that tomorrow may come sooner.” Stepping out of Rúmil’s embrace, he took his hand and led him over to the bed, pushing the covers back and sliding beneath them, pulling Rúmil into his arms. “Tomorrow,” he whispered, and Rúmil tucked his head under Orophin’s chin, sighing softly.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered, and drifted off to sleep with a smile; for all their worrying, this evening had been _perfect_.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
Orophin woke first, the early-summer sun streaming through the window warming him and illuminating Rúmil’s still-sleeping face in gold. They had moved in their sleep and now Rúmil lay on his back, his face tilted towards Orophin and his crown of braids still almost intact; a few wisps of hair were escaping, and Orophin felt his breath catch in his throat at how unutterably beautiful his beloved was. Last night he had been all silver and green beneath the lights festooned in the trees, but now he was golden, and so exquisite to look upon that Orophin could barely breathe.

He had not entirely intended to weave Rúmil’s hair into a betrothal crown for the banquet, but his hands had done the work before he had really realised what they were doing, and when he saw what he was creating he had been afraid that Rúmil would not want to wear it. But the look of wonder upon Rúmil’s face as he had realised what it was had been more than enough to tell Orophin that his unspoken question had been answered in the affirmative. And then Rúmil had done the same for him, the knot on the back of his head that signified that his beloved forsook all others for him, and his heart had been full to overflowing. He almost could not bring himself to worry that people might see them and put two and two together, but it seemed as though nobody had - although the city gossip would surely make its way back to them eventually, if anyone had come to any unwelcome conclusions.

But they had the blessing of the Lady Galadriel, Orophin thought, and her protection, and he could not quite work out what they might have done to deserve it. He had always assumed that she barely knew who they were, and so to find that not only did she know them, and know what they were to each other, but she would defend them should it ever be necessary, was an almost overwhelming thought. 

Slowly he became aware that Rúmil was awake and watching him, that look of wonder in his eyes again. 

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, and Rúmil smiled. 

“I was just about to say the same thing to you,” he said, and leaned up for a kiss, at first soft but growing more insistent, deeper, more heated, his tongue sliding against Orophin’s and sending the by-now familiar sensation of summer lightning all through him. Rúmil arched against him and let out a truly sinful moan, and Orophin shuddered. 

“I was going to unbind your hair,” Rúmil said, “but I find I cannot possibly wait to have you,” and he arched again, pushing Orophin over to lie upon his back and coming to rest atop him. He lay there for a moment, and Orophin closed his eyes, breathing him in and committing everything to memory, the way Rúmil’s skin felt against his, pressed all along the length of his body, the weight of him anchoring Orophin, keeping him safe. And then he shifted, beginning to kiss a slow trail down Orophin’s neck, across his chest, pausing at the scar under his collarbone as he always did, drawing his tongue along it before he moved on. He flicked his tongue against one nipple and then the other, and Orophin caught his breath, bringing his hands up instinctively to tangle them in Rúmil’s hair, only to find that he could not, for of course it was still caught up in the tightly-braided crown. He settled for smoothing them up Rúmil’s back instead, and then covering his shoulders as Rúmil made his way lower, across Orophin’s stomach, biting playfully at his hipbones before he reached his goal. 

Rúmil drew the tip of his tongue slowly, deliberately up the length of him, curling it around his head and flicking it over the top, and then just as slowly began to take him into his mouth, and Orophin bit his lip against a helpless cry of pleasure. Rúmil chuckled around him, the vibrations sending a shudder all the way up his spine, and Orophin truly could not help the whimper that escaped him at that. Looking down, the sight of Rúmil with his hair in the betrothal crown as he took Orophin further into his mouth was almost enough to undo Orophin completely, and he found himself having to close his eyes and swallow hard against the sudden, unbidden threat of tears. How had he ever come to deserve this beautiful, deadly, thoroughly wanton creature?

Rúmil continued to move, very slowly, sliding his tongue and sucking very softly as he almost let Orophin’s arousal fall from his mouth, and then taking him back in again, over and over, and still so tantalisingly slowly, and Orophin felt the pleasure building within him, building and building until it was almost unbearable. 

“Meleth, I will…” he gasped, and Rúmil hummed around him, taking him in again, and Orophin could not keep himself from falling, shuddering and crying out as it overtook him, feeling Rúmil swallowing convulsively around him and withdrawing to lick him clean, tongue lapping at his over-sensitive skin. 

Rúmil moved up to lie atop him again, and kissed him hard, letting Orophin taste himself upon his tongue. “You are so beautiful,” he said, “and like this even your exquisite hair does not distract from the loveliness of your face. I think that my favourite thing in all of Arda is to make you look like _that_.” 

Orophin sighed a little unsteadily, still catching his breath. “Well, I think that one of my favourite things in all of Arda is you making me look like _that_ ,” he said with a breathless laugh, “and another is when I make _you_ look like _that_.”

Rúmil grinned. “Not yet, melethron-nín,” he said. “I haven’t finished with you yet.” He reached over to the cabinet beside his bed and drew out the cut-glass bottle that had been a gift to them from the twins. The original contents were long used up, but they had spent a very enjoyable afternoon concocting a replacement, and Orophin almost dared to think that theirs was in fact superior. Rúmil uncorked the bottle and Orophin took it from him, twining their fingers together and pouring a little of the faintly scented oil over them before handing the bottle back to Rúmil so that he could seal it again and put it aside. 

Sliding his hand between them, Orophin wrapped his slickened fingers around Rúmil’s length, stroking carefully as he ensured the oil coated every inch of him, while delivering as much pleasure as he could give. Rúmil stifled a groan, meanwhile, and his fingers nudged at Orophin’s entrance as Orophin shifted and drew his knees up, granting his beloved access to him. It did not take much before Orophin was beginning to feel overwhelmed again, biting back whimpers and whispering to Rúmil _please_ to take him, _please_ , and after a moment’s teasing Rúmil acquiesced, pushing down as Orophin rolled his hips up to receive him, a cry escaping both of them as they were joined. 

They moved slowly together, caught in a long-drawn-out moment of languidness and sensuality, letting the tension between them build gradually; Orophin curled the fingers of one hand around Rúmil’s shoulder-blade and cupped the back of his head with the other, stroking his fingertips under the crown of braids and pulling him down for a slow, searing kiss. Eventually Orophin felt the end approaching and he tightened deliberately around Rúmil, prompting a helpless gasp and then - _then_ \- Rúmil shuddered, coming apart in his arms and pushing Orophin firmly over the edge. They clung to each other as they recovered, and Orophin thought that he had truly never known such bliss in all his life.

Later, as they began to unbind each other’s hair from the braids they had worn since the previous night, Orophin suddenly felt words bubbling up inside him, unbidden but, like the betrothal crown, suddenly the only words he could possibly speak. “Rúmil,” he murmured, “Rúmil, by the earth that gives us life and the trees that give us shelter, by the turning of the seasons and the passing of the years, I give my heart into your keeping and my soul into your care, until eternity has come and gone and time itself is over; and even then will I remain yours. This I swear, with all that in me lies, before Manwë and Varda and all the Valar."

Rúmil stilled his hands in Orophin’s hair, and for a moment Orophin’s heart stopped; what if he had misinterpreted everything? But then Rúmil began to speak, and all of Orophin’s fears vanished.

“Orophin, I receive your heart and your soul and I will care for them as though they were my own. And by the sun and the moon and the stars that watch over us, by the wind and the rain and the clear blue sky above the trees, I give you my heart and my soul in return, for all of time and for whatever comes after. I will be yours come what may, and this I swear with the whole of my being, before Manwë and Varda and all the Valar."

“I will bind myself to you, forsaking all others and caring not for whatever they may say but keeping you close to me, within my heart, for all of eternity,” whispered Orophin, and Rúmil echoed his words back to him, the final part of the ancient binding vows of the Elves of the Golden Wood, with a little defiance of the opinions of others thrown in for good measure. 

“In the sight of the Valar we are one,” said Rúmil, and Orophin gave the response. 

“And none shall dare to separate us,” he said, and he took Rúmil’s face in his hands, as Rúmil did the same for him, and they completed their vows with a soft kiss, sealed and bound at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**  
>  (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> ada: father (informal)  
> meleth-nín: my love  
> melethron-nín: my lover


	31. The Valar Smile Upon Us All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rúmil and Orophin confess to Haldir what they have done, and then to Arwen and the twins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. There might be an epilogue in a few days, when I've had chance to shake the idea loose, and Part Two will follow soon, although I'm going to take a break and start posting something else before I get to that. I'm also taking part in Writers' Month so I've got a pile of ficlets to write and post, and Part Three of this series to finish...so I shall be keeping busy.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read, kudos'd and commented, and I will see you all very soon indeed. <3

It was past midday when Orophin and Rúmil emerged from Rúmil’s room, hair brushed back into identical long braids down their backs. They had put their ordinary grey-green tunics and leggings on, with reluctant glances at the silk and velvet robes they had worn last night. But the contentment and happiness that they both felt was more wonderful even than the fine clothing, and Rúmil thought that if he had to choose between the two, with no disrespect to Arwen and her gift, he would always choose this feeling of utter joy.

Haldir glanced up from the book he was reading, in the armchair by the window, and Rúmil watched his eyebrows go up; they had not thought there was anything visibly different about them, but perhaps they had not seen it.

“You two look far too happy for as little sleep as you must have had,” he said, definitely implying that he had heard at least some of their lovemaking.

Rúmil blushed, as was still his tendency even though he ought really to have been used to Haldir’s teasing by now. “We might have…accidentally, no, that’s not the right word…”

“Unexpectedly,” Orophin put in, rescuing him. “Unexpectedly, we found ourselves speaking the bonding vows, earlier,” he said, and Haldir’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hair.

“You found yourselves - and you didn’t tell me?” he spluttered, sounding almost disappointed, and Rúmil felt a pang of remorse, for they should really have included their brother in their bonding, to stand witness for them before the Valar.

“It all happened so quickly,” Rúmil said. “Truly, Haldir, we did not mean to exclude you, but we just…we were undoing each other’s braids, and Orophin said - and then I said - and then there we were. Bonded.” Crossing the room, he leaned down to wrap his arms around Haldir’s neck, and Orophin followed suit. “We love you, gwanûr-vín,” Rúmil whispered fiercely, “and we would have your blessing, if you will give it to us, even if you were not able to stand witness for us.”

Haldir was silent for a moment, and Rúmil held his breath, but when he moved a little to look at his brother’s face, he saw that Haldir’s eyes were full of tears and he was struggling to speak. Haldir, who never wept, and was only very rarely lost for words. Rúmil took the book out of Haldir’s hands and set it aside, coming to sit in his lap, and wrapped his arms around Haldir’s neck again, while Orophin sat upon the arm of the chair and leaned his head against Haldir’s. 

“We love you, gwanûr-vín,” said Orophin, echoing Rúmil’s words. “You will always be the third part of us, no matter what may come. This changes nothing between us, I swear to you.”

“I know,” murmured Haldir eventually. “I never want to lose you. And I know you did not deliberately exclude me. I only wish I could have shared that moment with you, as the one who is closest to you and loves you both best of all.”

“Well, you’re here now,” said Rúmil. “Will you give us your blessing?”

“Of course I will,” said Haldir, one tear spilling over. “I am so happy for you, gwenyr-nín. You have my blessing, every single one that is within my power to give.” He reached up to kiss first Rúmil’s forehead and then Orophin’s. 

“Yours is the most important blessing we could have,” said Rúmil. “And now I think we should seal all this with a toast.” 

“Let me fetch the wine,” said Orophin, making for the cupboard and returning with a bottle of wine and three cups. “It isn’t Dorwinion, but it’ll do.”

“I know who will have Dorwinion wine,” said Haldir with a rather watery grin. “But I’d rather not go in search of it just yet. Let me have this drink with you two alone.”

“There will be time enough to tell them later,” said Rúmil, unfolding himself from Haldir’s lap and pulling Haldir to his feet, guiding him over to the sofa where usually he sat with Orophin. Making Haldir sit down in the centre, Rúmil curled himself on one side of him and Orophin, having poured the wine and given them a cup each, came to sit on the other side. 

“And to suggest that we celebrate with some of their wine,” said Haldir, raising his cup. “But for now, let us drink to your happiness.”

“And to yours,” said Rúmil, and Orophin echoed him. 

“And to yours. We shall never be parted, the three of us,” he said, and they all three brought their cups together and then drank. 

Later, when they had finished the wine and talked a great deal, much of which was Rúmil and Orophin attempting, without appearing to do so, to reassure Haldir that they would never exclude him, they were just beginning to wonder about trying to send word to Arwen and the twins when a knock came at the underside of the hole in the floor, and an Elfling stuck his head through. Not Niphredil, Rúmil thought, the lad was a child of Caras Galadhon, and so who wants us?

“Message for Rúmil of the Galadhrim and his brothers, the sons of Elrond and their sister wonder if you might have time for them?”

“Of course,” said Orophin. “Where and when do they wish to meet us?”

“They said you’d know the place, sir, and as to the time, they said whenever suited you.”

“Very well,” said Haldir, “we shall be there. Did they ask for a reply?”

“No, sir, they said they would be there all afternoon. They had a basket with them, so I think they are planning a picnic.” The child sketched a bow, looking as though he had a thousand other places to be.

“In that case you may go,” said Rúmil, and the lad instantly dropped back onto the ladder and vanished out of sight below. 

“Well, then,” said Orophin, “that is that question answered.”

“I don’t know how they do it,” said Haldir. “You don’t think they have inherited their grandmother’s Sight, do you?”

“I hope not,” said Rúmil. “I’ve been telling myself they are just uncommonly perceptive, and I think I would rather keep to that explanation.”

“I suppose they mean the clearing where we have been practising swordcraft with Arwen,” said Orophin. “Do you think we should do something with our hair?” He ran a hand somewhat self-consciously over the long braid down his back, a style usually only worn in the home and around the closest of friends.

“Leave it,” said Rúmil. “You heard what Elladan said last night; they consider us to be their family now. Besides, as lovely as that crown was, I am rather enjoying wearing the simplest style I can today, short of leaving my hair entirely loose.”

“Besides,” said Haldir, “this is such a long way from being an ordinary day, you need not wear your ordinary braids, do you not think?”

“I suppose so,” said Orophin. “Although I feel rather as though I were contemplating walking through the city in my sleeping trousers.”

Rúmil laughed. “You won’t be alone, meleth-nín. I shall be beside you, also wearing my sleeping trousers, as it were.”

“You don’t wear sleeping trousers,” said Haldir. “Please tell me you are not planning to walk through the city naked.”

“Nothing could be further from my mind,” said Rúmil. “Do not worry, gwanûr-nín, I will keep all of my clothes on.”

“Thank the Valar for that,” said Haldir, and they set their cups to one side, making ready to set out for the clearing.

When they got there, they saw that the messenger Elfling had been right; Arwen and the twins were sitting on a large cloth that looked distinctly like a bedspread, and the twins had a basket between them, full of food and at least four bottles of wine that Rúmil could see. 

“Here you are!” cried Arwen, leaping to her feet and running to embrace them. “I am so glad you were able to come, and so quickly, too. I hope our messenger did not disturb you.”

“Not at all,” said Haldir. “We were just sitting and talking, and celebrating some good news.”

“Good news, eh?” said Elladan. “Come and sit down and tell us all about it.” He gestured at the wide expanse of cloth, and Arwen ushered them to take their places. Elrohir passed plates round and poured wine into cups, and Arwen began to unpack the food from the hamper. 

When they were settled, each with a plate of food and a cup of wine, Elladan looked round at them. 

“So what is this good news?” he asked. “I am assuming it has something to do with these two, and their general air of utter decadent bliss.”

Rúmil and Orophin exchanged a look, and Arwen stepped in. 

“I think what my brother is trying to say is that you both look very happy today,” she said. “More so than usual. And you, Haldir, you look as though you could burst with pride and happiness.”

Elladan opened his mouth, presumably to say something slightly cutting about Haldir’s pride, but Elrohir stepped smoothly in before his twin could speak. 

“You do all look particularly joyful,” he said. “Is it something we may know?”

Rúmil and Orophin looked at each other again, unable quite to keep from smiling, and Haldir took it upon himself to deliver the news.

“It seems that my brothers, this morning, accidentally - “

“Unexpectedly,” said Rúmil and Orophin together, for it had been no accident, just un-looked-for at that particular moment, and they did not wish their friends to have the impression that they had not meant it. 

“Forgive me, gwenyr-nín. I shall start again,” said Haldir, his eyes dancing. “It seems that my brothers, this morning, unexpectedly bound themselves to each other. I have given them my blessing, of course, and we were celebrating in our own small way when your messenger arrived.”

“I knew it!” Elladan crowed, as Arwen clapped her hands with joy and Elrohir leaned over to clasp Rúmil’s and Orophin’s shoulders. 

“We are delighted for you,” he said, the sincerity and joy plain to hear in his voice. “Also, my brother and sister owe me a barrel of Periannath ale apiece.”

“You - you bet on whether we would…” Rúmil trailed off, his mouth open in shock, not at all sure what to make of this information.

“Of course we did,” said Elladan. “I said you’d already done it and were waiting to tell us until you saw us.”

“And I said you would not yet take that step, not until perhaps the end of the summer,” said Arwen, a hint of a giggle in her voice. “I suppose I was hoping for a ceremony, even if only among ourselves, and perhaps the opportunity to shower the pair of you in flower petals.”

Orophin broke into laughter at that, and Rúmil found he could do nothing else but follow suit. “So you, Elrohir,” said Orophin, when he had calmed himself, “you said that we would do it by accident?”

“Not at all,” said Elrohir. “I said that you would do it while we were here, but on your own or with Haldir, and you would share the news with us when you were ready.”

“What has our friendship come to,” said Rúmil, “that you would bet on when or whether we would bind ourselves to each other?”

“Ah, but you forget,” said Elladan, “you’re family now, and this is absolutely how we work.”

“We still have a bet open from five hundred or so years ago, as to whether Glorfindel and Erestor are ever going to admit that they are in love with each other,” said Elrohir. 

“There is still time,” said Arwen. “I do believe that they have at least admitted it to each other.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t part of the terms of the bet,” said Elladan. “It has to be confessed in public, and so far they are showing frustratingly little sign of ever doing so.”

“What is the prize for the victor in that bet?” enquired Haldir.

“Periannath ale again,” said Elladan. “It’s easiest if we use something that can be fairly easily acquired. Sometimes it’s a crate of Dorwinion, but mostly it’s the ale.”

“Did you bring any of the ale with you this time, gwenyr-nín?” asked Arwen, sighing with disappointment as the twins shook their heads. 

“There wasn’t room in the wagons, I’m afraid,” said Elrohir. “You’ll just have to come back to Imladris and then you can have some.” 

“I do like it sometimes, just as a change,” said Arwen. “I suppose we’ll have to make do with wine.” She raised her cup. “I know we drink a lot of toasts, but it seems that we have a great many things to celebrate. Not least this. I wish you all the joy in the world at your binding, and may the Valar watch over you and bless you all of your days.”

They drank, and Orophin raised his cup in response. 

“Thank you,” he said, “from the bottom of our hearts. We could wish for no truer friends - or family, if you will. We love you all.”

“That we do,” said Rúmil. “Should you ever need us, you need only send us word.”

“We’ll bear that in mind,” said Elladan. “You might live to regret that.”

“Never,” said Rúmil, with feeling, and Elladan laughed, raising his cup.

“To ill-advised promises,” he said, and they all drank again, laughing, before they set to eating and talking and whiling away the long early summer afternoon. 

Sitting there in the clearing, his head on Orophin’s shoulders and his feet in Haldir’s lap, Rúmil thought he could not possibly be happier. He felt as though he had found his home at last, here in the place he had lived all his life, with his two brothers, his one beloved - and these three dearest friends, or indeed, adopted siblings. The Valar smiled upon all of them, he thought, and he could surely ask for nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sindarin translations:**   
> (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> gwanûr-vín: our brother  
> gwenyr-nín: my brothers  
> gwanûr-nín: my brother
> 
> Kudos and comments are of course not obligatory, but every single one absolutely makes my day, so if you enjoy this story and leave one or the other (or both!), you will be making me very happy indeed and I thank you in advance from the bottom of my tired little heart. <3


End file.
